


L'affaire Des Poisons

by _Melodic_ (Sae)



Category: Thor (Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Historical, Alternate Universe - Royalty, Anal Sex, Angst with a Happy Ending, Blow Jobs, Confessions, Frottage, Hand Jobs, Incest, M/M, Masturbation, Misunderstandings, Murder Mystery, Mutual Pining, Resolved Sexual Tension, Rimming, Sibling Incest, Unresolved Sexual Tension, Wet Dream
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-29
Updated: 2018-10-29
Packaged: 2019-08-09 12:57:05
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 40,292
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16450385
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sae/pseuds/_Melodic_
Summary: King Thor is burdened enough with disputes at Asgard’s borders, inevitable war with Jotunheim, and a nasty affair of murder by poison in his very own court. To further flame the fire, his mind is constantly consumed with his growing feelings for his brother and the failing battle to fight his rising desire. He must unravel the threads of the sinister plot, but how can he when he is distracted by his aberrant yearning and—even worse—his fear that Loki may be the one behind it all?A 17th Century French Nobility AU inspired by the historical event of the Affair of Poisons. Thor and Loki are based loosely on King Louis XIV, the Sun King, and his brother, Philippe I, Duke of Orleans. Much inspiration also taken from season two of the TV show Versailles.





	L'affaire Des Poisons

**Author's Note:**

> All my love to K for their incredible beta work and really pushing me to get the most out of my characters. A big thank you to the mods for putting on this fest! <3
> 
> Lovely art (featured later in the story) by [Fae](http://kingloptr.tumblr.com/)  
> See the aesthetic images they created for this story [here](http://kingloptr.tumblr.com/post/179569439140/aesthetic-images-for-thorkibigbang-and)
> 
> I've read Thorki for quite some time but this is my first time writing a fic for this fandom (and somehow it became my longest fic to date!) I truly hope I do justice for this lovely pairing.

✴♔✵♔✴

✴♔✵♔✴

Laughter suffused the air, bright and carefree, washing over the court and filling Thor’s ears. His gaze passed over the noblemen and women with their heaping plates of food and overflowing cups of wine. Like a horde of bees trembling in their hive, the dining hall buzzed with animated conversation. Thor’s roaming eyes continued to move about until they finally landed on his intended destination.

Instead of sitting beside him at the head of the table, as he was expected to do, his brother, Loki, was settled further away. He wore a mischievous smile as he conversed secretly with the Chevalier of Nastrond. Loki had quite a few young men who fawned over him throughout the years, but the Chevalier seemed to be the only one who stuck around. Their relationship appeared shallow enough from the surface, and at times it was difficult to discern who was using who with their little affair, but there was something about the arrogant, social-climbing noble that drove Thor mad. 

Loki leaned closer to the Chevalier, his dark, wavy hair falling like a curtain over his pale face as he listened intently to the honey-haired, pompous man. Frustration twisted deep in Thor’s stomach, bitterness rising up his chest and lodging painfully in his throat. It was not so long ago that Thor was the one Loki whispered all his secrets to, but the years had changed them both—an unidentifiable force pulling them further and further apart.

“More wild duck, your Majesty?” Thor’s serving man asked, holding a platter of the thickly sliced meat, smothered in sour berry sauce.

The Chevalier moved closer yet, his lips nearly brushing Loki’s ear. “No,” Thor replied waving his hand in dismissal. “I have quite lost my appetite.”

The serving man moved away and Thor returned his attention back to his brother. Loki had only returned to court a few months ago after nearly a year away at one of Asgard’s southern forts, patrolling the border. It was a task Thor appointed him during one of their more turbulent arguments, one he regretted the next day when Loki set out at dawn without saying goodbye. He had not expected Loki to be gone for so long, nor for the distance to remain between them once he returned.

“Lost in thought, again?” The Marquis of Gunderheim sat in the empty chair beside Thor and nudged him with her shoulder. No other noble would be so bold to touch their King so casually, but Sif was a childhood friend and Thor merely grinned in return.

“Just enjoying the spectacular feast this evening,” he replied lightly, receiving a disbelieving snort from Sif. Her searching gaze bore through his pretense of calm and he sighed before adding softly, “I miss my father on nights like these. It makes me nostalgic for the past.” It was only a half-lie. Thor often did miss his father, and though he had been king for several years now, there were times he longed for Odin’s counsel and stern, swift decisiveness. Thor had settled into his role well enough, but his desire for the carefree light-heartedness of his childhood gnawed at him, especially when he caught himself gazing at Loki.

Sif squeezed his shoulder in sympathy, but the touch was a mere whisper in the back of his mind. Loki had lifted his glass and drained the remaining wine, leaving only a few crimson streaks clinging to the crystal. Thor watched Loki’s pale throat work as he swallowed, his eyes fixed on the few drops that remained on Loki’s lips which he quickly cleaned away with a swipe of his tongue. The usual fierce throb of longing Thor always tried so hard to suppress trembled through his body, settling deep into his bones. Loki’s gaze lifted and locked with Thor’s, his brother’s vibrant green eyes meeting his, void of all outward expression. Thor could see past the indifferent gaze, however, catching that brief flame that danced beneath. Loki continued to stare, a challenge forming on his face. His pretty lips curved into a taunting smirk.

Thor, as usual, forfeited the game and looked away.

He lifted his hand to call for more wine when a commotion erupted at the end of the hall. Porcelain plates shattered on the floor and chairs scraped loudly as Baron Bolthorn, a minor noble, convulsed, his hands grasping desperately at his throat. A few guardsmen surged forward to help as the company of nobles around him scurried away in fear. Thor stood abruptly, ready to rush over, but a firm hand on his arm stopped him. He turned to find his Grand Marshal, Heimdall, at his side. Behind him stood the Knights Three, their hands already grasping the hilts of their swords.

“Your Majesty,” Heimdall began, pulling Thor towards the door, “we must get you to safety back at your chambers.”

“But—” Thor protested, his head whipping towards the place where Loki had been sitting only to find it empty. “Alright,” he relented with a heavy sigh and allowed himself to be whisked away.

✴♔✵♔✴

It had taken the better part of two hours to clear the great dining hall, settle the frenzied—and at times hysterical—court, and return everyone to their chambers. Thor, of course, had been confined to his own royal quarters while his personal guard manned the perimeter. He paced restlessly with frustration as he waited for his knights to return and report the details of the dramatic events to him.

His council, whom he called for an urgent meeting, were gathered together in his entertaining room. It was rare to have all five members together at once and the spacious room seemed more crowded than usual. They, like Thor, also seemed impatient to discover the meaning of the commotion at dinner, though he suspected it was less to do with curiosity and more aligned with his ministers’ desires to return to their own chambers for the night. His uncle, Duke Tyr, appeared bored and Duke Hoder was already beginning to doze in a plush, velvet chair.

“Majesty.” Heimdall entered the room and lowered his head. His posture betrayed a hint of fatigue and when he rose again, Thor caught a glimpse of stories untold in his golden eyes.

Thor gestured for Heimdall to come closer. His uncle perked up a bit, eyebrows raising in their direction. Hoder, however, let out a soft snore. “Tell me what you have discovered,” Thor commanded.

Heimdall’s gaze flickered briefly to the gathered council, most of the ministers now showing varying degrees of interest. Thor nodded, his eyes catching Heimdall’s, wordlessly giving him permission to continue. “It was, as suspected, a poisoning.” 

Duke Vidar, who had previously been bragging about a recent conquest to Vicomte Balder, broke his hushed conversation and shot to his feet. “A poisoning! Your Majesty, what if you were the the intended target?”

Thor held up a hand to quiet the frantic mumbling amongst his council. “We have no proof of that yet. There is no need to jump to conclusions.”

“Still,” his uncle added, brow furrowing in concern, “you must take precautions. You have yet to marry and still have no heir. The kingdom as a whole cannot rest safely while plots brew around you.”

“As of now, there is no plot,” Thor insisted, his voice stern and full of finality. “I thank you all for your concern, but we must remain calm about this. I am sure it was an isolated incident and we will catch the culprit presently.” He eyed his council carefully, his face as cold as marble. “I ask you not to speak of this outside of this room.”

The ministers nodded their heads in assent, all expect Duke Hoder who, after being jabbed sharply by Duke Vidar, woke with a start.

When the last of his council left the room, his guard shutting the door closed behind them, Thor turned to Heimdall with a weary sigh. “So,” he began, “how bad is it?”

“As of now we have no reason to believe the attack was meant for you or that the poisoner holds any malice towards you. Baron Bolthorn has made quite a few enemies in his quick rise within the court. It’s been said he has spread venomous rumors about those who opposed him and used money to bribe others, only to never pay.” Heimdall paused, his voice lowering though they were mostly alone in the room. “However, there is always danger when poison is present, especially considering the perpetrator was bold enough to murder right in front of their King.”

Thor nodded and reached out to grasp Heimdall’s shoulder. He leaned in close and said, “I want you to look into this, find out who is behind it and what their aim was. Tensions are too high at court; faces are full of smiles and flattery while their eyes glint sharply with secrets. However, be discreet—I do not want to cause a panic.”

“Understood, your Majesty.” Heimdall bowed his head and left the room.

✴♔✵♔✴

✴♔✵♔✴

A few days later and the court seemed to have all-together forgotten about the poisoning affair. In the end, it was merely regarded as an added excitement to an otherwise dull feast, and Thor wasn’t sure if he should feel relieved or offended by the flighty nature of his nobles. He couldn’t disregard the event as easily as others, especially when the poisoner had yet to be discovered.

It was these heavy, disturbing thoughts that led his feet unconsciously to his favorite place as a child. Warm memories flooded in as he walked upon the cobbled path, through the apple orchards, and past the Star Grove. Summer was reaching its end, but the air still carried a mellow warmth, soothing and comforting in equal measure. This little area, on the border of the finely manicured gardens and the heavily wooded surroundings, was his and Loki’s favorite place to play as children. They had built a makeshift fort at the edge of the orchard; a quiet place where they could escape from the stifling lessons and tutors of their youth. Without the heavy weight of responsibility on either of their shoulders, nor the fate of their kingdom, this place was where they experienced true joy. They often play-acted many famous battles, fighting with branches broken off from the outlying trees, the bark splintering as they crashed together again and again.

Thor frequently won their little battles, panting breathlessly as he pinned Loki to the ground, triumph writ across his face. Loki would only struggle for a moment before his lips curved into a smug smile. He would boast that he let Thor win—of course—and that Thor was all too easy to manipulate. Thor would scoff at Loki’s claims, though a kernel of doubt would inevitably grow inside his chest. He always cast away his misgivings, however, and would demand to claim his prize.

Thor paused as he reached the end of the orchard to find he was not alone. Leaning against the old, worn stone of their childhood fort stood Loki. A gentle breeze rustled his dark hair, the glossy strands fluttering across his face. He seemed lost in thought, arms tightly crossed against his chest, his eyes distant as he stared out towards the woods.

_Claiming his prize._

Unbidden, the memories of their play-fights rushed back; stolen kisses and soft sighs, no one around to tell them that it was wrong or unnatural. How could it be? They were only playing pretend after all—those quiet moments alone together here, those hesitant touches, they never spoke of them aloud.

A branch snapped under Thor’s foot and Loki whipped around, his hand deftly reaching into his jacket and pulling out a dagger. His eyes narrowed when they settled on Thor, his grip only tightening on the intricately carved handle.

“Be still, brother.” Thor raised his hands in surrender. “It is only me.”

“Only you,” Loki repeated, with cold disdain. “Only the Thunder King, ruler of Asgard, who comes to disrupt my peace.”

“Loki,” Thor exhaled, half warning, half plea.

Loki sighed, face full of contempt, but he placed his dagger back into the secure hiding place beneath his jacket. “What are you doing here?”

“Disrupting your peace, of course,” Thor responded with a teasing smirk. His stomach flipped with pleasure when his reply caused Loki’s lips to twitch in a barely suppressed smile. 

Loki’s tense posture relaxed ever so slightly as he leaned against the side of their childhood fort, watching Thor with curious eyes. His lazy sprawl contested with the residual tension humming through his graceful body. Sunlight streamed through the treetops lighting him up as if he were on stage. Thor drank in the sight. The rich green satin of Loki’s waistcoat nearly matched the moss covering the stones behind him. His golden buttons shone under the midday sun, and his unusual choice of black lace rising from his chest to brush against his slender throat provided the most lovely contrast to his pale skin. Thor was helpless to take a step closer.

“Brother?” Loki questioned, breaking Thor’s trance.

Thor paused and cleared his throat. “I am glad to have you back at court.”

“Are you?” Loki titled his head, his voice light and playful. Thor hadn’t realized how much he missed this impish side of his brother until it was there, right in front of him. “You are not displeased with the bit of trouble my merry friends and I caused at the last soiree?”

Thor snorted in response. “My _gardeners_ were rather displeased—the rose bushes were nearly ruined, and it took ages to fully clean the fountains.”

Loki’s mischievous smile grew. “You should have kept my ingenious changes. Wine bubbling from a fountain is much more exciting than plain old water.”

“Perhaps,” Thor relented. “Dare I even ask what sorcery you used to manage that feat in the first place?”

Loki’s answering grin was positively devilish. “I think it is better I keep my secrets.”

“You always were rather tight-lipped about that,” Thor complained half-heartedly. “Even as children you had the best tricks, always enchanting mother and never sharing your ways with me.”

Loki’s grin only deepened, his eyes sparkling with delight. Thor’s heart thudded happily to see the pleased expression on his brother’s face. “Now, that is not entirely true. If I recall correctly, I often offered you my alchemy books to borrow, but you were always interested in more physical pursuits.”

“It was so cold and dark in that musty library,” Thor protested abashedly. “I cannot be blamed for preferring to hone my swordsmanship in the outdoor yards.”

“No,” Loki agreed, the smile fading slowly from his face. “It would not be becoming of a soon-to-be king to hide away in the library with his younger brother. Not when you had bravery to prove, strength to display, battles to win…”

Silence filled the space between them, not comfortable and warm as it had been in the past. Instead there was a chasm growing, a void that was both steely and fragile. Thor’s mind worked furiously to bring back the playful tone from before. He eyed Loki but his brother’s face was turned away towards the woods. His hand rested on the smooth stone, fingers white as they curled tightly against the worn edge.

Thor’s gaze fell to the thick dark sleeve on Loki’s arm. He reached out to press his hand against the warm fabric, his fingers brushing against the cuffs. “How can you bear to wear velvet during the summer?”

Loki snatched his hand away with a frown. “Not all of us run as hot as you.” He picked a speck of imaginary lint from his sleeve before adding quietly, with a hint of bitterness, “Nor do all of us shine as brightly.”

_So, this again._ Thor sighed internally. “Loki—”

“Tell me, brother,” Loki cut in, his voice colored with forced cheerfulness. “Do you still come here often?”

“Of course,” Thor answered, willing to let the matter go for the time being. He stepped closer and stood beside Loki, leaning against the wall of their miniature fort. The sun-baked stones lent a bit of heat to his back and he exhaled in pleasure at the comforting feeling. “It is a nice place to escape, to clear my mind and be alone.”

Loki turned to look at Thor. “I suppose it was a bit of a disappointment to already find me here, then?”

“No,” Thor asserted firmly. “You are never a disappointment, brother.” Loki snorted in disbelief but Thor continued on, “I like that you still come here as well, that we have this secret place together, even after all these years.”

Loki looked away but his voice remained light and teasing. “Oh please, this place is no secret. I know you brought Sif and the Knights Three here to play in your pretend wars.”

“That was only once!” Thor protested, his arms crossing defensively. “I cannot believe you still remember that.”

Loki pushed off the wall, his face covered by the dark curtain of his hair. Softly, he said, “I remember everything.”

Thor felt his pulse quicken, his blood rushing too quickly through his veins. Though they stood hardly a foot apart, the years of distance, misunderstandings, and unspoken agreements created a barrier of stone between them. Loki’s most recent return to court had only ignited the flames that Thor fought daily to put out. Having his brother so close once again, and yet still so far and untouchable, was nearly unbearable. He was foolish to imagine Loki had not observed the rising tension between them.

Loki pushed his hair away with a swift flip of his hand, looking over his shoulder to offer Thor a sad smile, before walking away.

“As do I,” Thor whispered to his retreating back.

✴♔✵♔✴

The Salon of Diana was bustling with activity when Thor entered, barely quieting when he was announced to the room.

“The King!” the herald exclaimed.

Nobles rose from their chairs, the scraping against the floor a faint noise as they settled back down a moment later, after Thor had waved his hand for all to continue. The tables were full, and though Thor enjoyed a bit of cards in his adolescence, he had no interest to gamble this evening.

He scanned the crowd, insisting to himself that he was not searching for a familiar head of dark hair. It was pointless, anyway. Loki rarely visited the billiards salon with the usual occupants of the court. No, Loki prefered his own private parties with his small band of friends, fiercely loyal to him and every ounce as mischievous as he. 

Thor was glad that his brother had carved a small place for himself at court, that he had created his own sanctuary in the palace where he could be himself and accepted by those around him. The more traditional nobles and families of distuguined descent often turned their noses up at Loki, disdaining his bold wardrobe, his penchant for mischief, his sharp tongue and cutting wit. It hurt Thor to see his brother treated so ill, to hear the scathing murmurs and observe the narrowed glances shot Loki’s way. Yet whenever Thor attempted to intervene, Loki made his position absolutely clear. He insisted he did not need his older brother, king or not, to fight his battles. Loki was determined to stand on his own and no amount of pleading from Thor would change his mind. They were all fools in any case, Thor fervently repeated to himself. That certain sect of disapproving nobles may have set their hearts against Loki, but Thor knew they did not represent the Kingdom as a whole. The people loved their prince, as Thor loved him. Clever, witty, beautiful….

Thor shook his head to clear his mind. This was no time to get distracted with thoughts of his brother. He needed all his attention on the court tonight, to note all those in attendance. He trusted Heimdall to give a thorough report the next day, but he desired to have an idea for himself of who often frequented the gaming salon. He wished he also could stay, to observe and attempt to uncover the subtle nuances and secrets of his court. He knew, however, such a task would be impossible; there could be no true revelations if they all were aware the eyes of the King were on them.

“Really?” Mademoiselle Marguerite laughed, her voice full of mockery. “You care to go again? Are you not tired of losing money?”

Thor paused near the table, watching as Baron Skurge grunted in reply, shoving a few gold coins towards her. “My luck just hasn’t kicked in yet. This is no time to quit.”

Thor resisted rolling his eyes; Skurge had been a member of his court for many years and his fortune only seemed to diminish more and more as time went on.

Marguerite, however, seemed delighted by Baron Skurge’s determination to continue. She toyed with the shining jewels laid across her neck, her lips curling into a sinister smile. “If you insist my dear.”

Thor moved on, leaving Skurge to his fate of a long night of wine and gambling that would inevitably be met with an aching morning of hangovers and empty pockets.

The nobles murmured their greetings as he passed, a few ladies batting their eyelashes and giving him seductive looks. Thor had no interest in them, not tonight—not for quite some time. It had been nearly a year since he took his last mistress and he could feel the ladies of the court grow restless and anxious of who would grace the King’s bed next.

“Your Majesty,” Heimdall greeted Thor, joining him in his walk around the room.

“Any new discoveries?” Thor asked quietly under his breath, leading them towards a less occupied corner of the salon.

Heimdall shook his head. “Nothing concrete yet. The body is being examined in hopes of detecting the exact poison used, but it is a long, slow process.”

“I see.” Thor glanced around the room, at his lively court, drinking and laughing, no concern that a murderer was likely amongst them. “I am going to retire for the night. Keep your eyes and ears open, see if you hear of any rumors and gossip that might lead to the culprit.”

Heimdall inclined his head and Thor, with a final look at the boisterous crowd, departed.

✴♔✵♔✴

“Can I get you anything else, your Majesty?” Röskva, his valet, asked, setting a bronze jug of water at Thor’s bedside.

Thor stretched, his muscles pulling across his broad shoulders, loosening the minor aches in his body. “No, thank you Röskva. You may retire for the night.”

The man bowed and left, closing the door and leaving Thor alone for the first time all day. Despite being active since near dawn, Thor buzzed with a sort of restless energy. He paced his room for a few minutes before he finally forced himself into bed, only to stare hopelessly at his silken canopy.

The tensions between Asgard and Jotunheim had only grown in the last year and his father’s work of a tentative peace between the two kingdoms seemed doomed to fall apart. Thor could hardly afford a war, not when the borders were still not entirely secure, not when he had murder and poisonings occuring in his very own court. His mind swam with concerns—endless meetings with his council doing little to appease him—and yet it was not the business of state which sat in the forefront of his thoughts.

Having Loki back at court was a blessing and a curse. He had missed his brother terribly. Despite their tendency to argue whenever they were thrown into a room together, and Loki’s predilection for mischief and mayhem wherever he went, Thor felt a spreading happiness knowing his brother was so close again. He longed to regain the simple affection of their youth, but their time apart, and diverging paths, had created a rift Thor could not seem to mend.

Then again, part of the curse of Loki’s returned proximity meant that perhaps it was better Thor didn’t stray too close. When they were children, nothing seemed too out of order with their shared brotherly affection—a neck clasped in greeting, a fierce hug to comfort, arms linked as they ran down the halls of the palace, nights where Loki would wake Thor, trembling from some bad dream, to sneak into his bed and hide under the covers. Thor would stroke his brother’s hair and hold him close until he fell into a peaceful sleep again.

Yet as they got older, things began to change. It was all part of their games they played, that was what they told each other, and themselves. Thor was the brave knight, rescuing the damsel from distress. Of course Loki, with his pretty looks, often played the damsel, going so far to even wear the bodice and gowns. Thor would demand his reward—only to have Loki reveal he was actually an enchantress who lured Thor to him with a magic spell. Either way, it all led to the same thing—a press of lips, soft and chaste at first, until it wasn’t. Until it was Thor slipping his tongue into the velvet heat of Loki’s mouth, their soft moans mingling together, his hands sliding under Loki’s full skirts, barely stopping himself from reaching all the way to grasp, to grab…

Loki would push his hands away, red-faced and pupils blown wide. He would bat his long, dark lashes and take on the role of a maiden at court, insisting that he must remain pure for his wedding day. They would both laugh and begin a new game—this time with Loki as the Knight, as he would fervently point out it was his turn—and pretend that all that had occured before was part of the play-act, not the culmination of their mutual growing desire.

Thor groaned and pulled a pillow over his face, pointedly ignoring the heat in his groin and the interest stirring there. It would not do to fixate on those memories, not when he so longed to become close to his brother once more. Thor could hardly expect Loki to come to trust and confide in him again, not when he harbored such unnatural thoughts towards him.

He rolled over and willed his mind to clear, allowing this thoughts to drift away like wisps of smoke. 

The sleep that found him was fitful and unsatisfying, suspended in a world between dreams and reality. He imagined himself back in his youth, training to be king while Loki slipped further and further away from him, studying his alchemy, his head always in a book. 

Thor, however, was determined. He walked through the maze of the palace, day turning to night, shadows filling the halls, until he found Loki in the back of the library, moonlight streaming in through the window to cast an ethereal glow over his face.

“Have you come to disrupt me?” Loki asked, never taking his eyes from his book.

Thor moved closer, and closer yet, until he was mere inches away from him. “I come as a welcome distraction.” Thor plucked the book away and tossed it aside, meeting Loki’s glare with a wide grin.

“Who are you to decide whether you are welcome or not?” Loki replied sharply.

Thor leaned in, his lips brushing against Loki’s mouth as he answered. “Is this unwelcome, brother?”

Loki’s reply was in the needy moan that escaped his lips before returning Thor’s kiss. Thor cupped Loki’s cheeks with his hands, thumbs rubbing against the smooth skin of his jaw. Cold like marble, so unnaturally cold. He made to move away, to examine this phantom that posed as his brother, but Loki wrapped his arms around Thor’s neck and pulled him closer.

Any remaining thoughts or doubts fled from Thor’s brain, shattered like the barely contained restraint left in his body. He allowed himself to be pulled on top of Loki, his tongue licking along the seam of Loki’s lips. 

“Brother,” Loki groaned into Thor’s mouth. He sounded desperate, wanton, ready.

Thor rocked against Loki’s body, taking the extra step he always resisted in the past, his hands sliding between them to palm at Loki’s growing erection. “I want you,” he panted, breaking their kiss to bite at Loki’s neck.

“Then take me.” Loki arched into Thor’s touch, his cock a firm pressure in Thor’s hand. Thor’s pulse stuttered, his breathing quickened, his body moving of its own, his own throbbing cock rubbing against Loki’s thigh. “Is this enough?” Loki teased, matching Thor’s movements. “Can I make you come just like this?”

Thor’s response was in the tightening in his gut, the increased pressure, the explosion of sensation which overtook his entire body. His cock pulsed and emptied, the sticky heat spreading along his pants, against the silky feel of...of sheets.

Thor opened his eyes and woke with a groan, his cock still twitching as it finished releasing its pleasure. He rubbed his face, groggy as the first golden light of dawn filled his bedroom.

A dream, of course.

What else could it have been?

✴♔✵♔✴

✴♔✵♔✴

“You cannot really mean that!”

“Well, why not?” Duke Vidar replied. “I have placed some money in various investments recently and would benefit from a surplus in weaponry.”

Thor, walking unseen along the edge of the Labyrinth Grove, paused as he recognized a few voices, including his uncle and Minister, Duke Tyr. Carefully he leaned closer to the manicured bushes, picking up pieces of their conversation.

“Still,” Tyr insisted, “Supporting a war with Jotunheim, when we have all been working so hard to retain the peace?”

“I agree,” Mademoiselle Idunn replied. “Wars are costly and I have heard the Jotun soldiers are giant beasts of men, ruthless and dangerous.”

“You would be safe with me,” Duke Vidar murmured, earning a scoff of amusement from Idunn. “Besides,” he continued, turning back towards Duke Tyr, “The path to war is inevitable now, you can blame your mischievous nephew, Loki, for that.”

“He is not wrong,” Idunn agreed. “Was he not supposed to be the Asgardian diplomat in order to seal a new treaty of peace? I heard he made quite a few enemies, that he may have even been involved in the Jotun heir’s untimely death!”

Thor’s heart began to pound but he remained still and resisted the urge to reveal himself. He was likely to hear and learn a lot more in his place of hiding.

“You should not take every rumor so seriously,” his uncle replied, though he sounded weary and uncertain himself.

“Maybe you can settle a rumor yourself,” Vidar said in a conspiratorial hush. Thor leaned closer, straining to hear his next words. “Is it true that Loki is not a true born son but a bastard? His height and willowy frame, his dark coloring—he looks nothing like the rest of the royal family. Did the late King Odin truly beget him off some Jotun whore?”

Blood roared between Thor’s ears, a rage building in his chest and crackling through his body. He had already walked several paces towards the entrance of the grove when another voice stopped him in his tracks.

“Dear Vidar,” Loki said calmly, his voice ice-cold. “Do you really listen to every idle bit of gossip you hear? How do you hold so much useless information in your already puny brain?”

“Prince Loki!” Idunn exclaimed, with the good sense to sound at least a bit embarrassed.

“Your Grace—” Duke Tyr began.

“Idle gossip?” Duke Vidar laughed haughtily. “Perhaps,” he continued boldly, heedless to the repercussions of speakly so brashly to a prince, “or maybe it is even worse. Maybe you are not even Odin’s son. Indeed, otherwise how could poor Queen Frigga, rest her soul, have shouldered the shame of having to raise you?”

Thor was already around the corner and advancing on them when the growl left Loki’s mouth, followed by his attack. Idunn let out a frightened yelp and Tyr jumped aside as Loki swung at Vidar, landing a punch square on his face. Vidar staggered back, his face white with shock, rivers of blood streaming from his nose.

“Do not ever speak about my mother like that again!” Loki shouted with rage, his fingers curling and releasing compulsively at his sides.

“Your Majesty!” Duke Tyr, having spotted Thor, inclined his head, causing the others to sharply turn in his direction.

“Majesty, I—” Vidar stuttered, holding a lace handkerchief to his nose. The white material slowly stained red, doing little to stop up the flow of blood.

“Leave,” Thor commanded, his voice low, his anger barely contained. “All of you.”

Mademoiselle Idunn began to curtesy and Vidar formed a half-bow before Duke Tyr was quickly ushering them away and out of the Labyrinth Grove. He didn’t bother to watch them leave. His gaze remained fixed on Loki who was still trembling with white rage.

“Loki—”

“Don’t.” Loki’s response was sharp and vicious, his emerald eyes clouded with fury.

Thor, despite himself, stepped forward to place a comforting hand on Loki’s shoulder. Loki’s entire body stiffened, taut as a bow. He slowly turned to face Thor, his expression nearly rabid. Thor sighed in defeat and took his hand away, his heart heavy as he watched Loki rush away.

✴♔✵♔✴

Thor adjusted his grip on the handle, arching his arm smoothly as he hit the ball with a loud thwack. It flew over the net, narrowly missing his opponent’s swing, and bounced along the floor.

“A point for his Majesty!”

The crowd applauded, a few ladies near the edge of the court nearly swooning as they cheered Thor’s name. Sif, who was also watching from the sidelines, merely rolled her eyes at the display. Volstagg stood beside her, checking the netting on his paddle, anxious for his turn to play.

Thor picked up a spare ball, preparing himself to serve, when he saw Heimdall’s golden, piercing gaze from the corner of his eye.

“Volstagg,” Thor said, walking off the court and towards his Grand Marshal. “Take over for me.”

Volstagg happily complied, bounding towards the court with an excited grin.

Thor clasped Heimdall on the shoulder, steering him away from the crowd who watched the match begin again with interest. “What is it?”

“Majesty, I have news,” Heimdall replied, pitching his voice low. “There has been another poisoning. Instantly fatal this time.”

Thor rubbed at his face, his heart sinking at the news. “Who?”

Heimdall paused for a moment, his face creased with misgivings. “Your minister, Duke Vidar.”

“Vidar?” Thor exclaimed with shock. He had little love for the arrogant man but certainly didn’t wish for his death. “Who would be so bold to poison someone among my council?”

The crowd erupted in cheers as Volstagg scored a point, much to the frustration of his opponent who demanded a rematch. Volstagg postured around the court, earning an exasperated look from Sif, but the ladies who earlier were supporting Thor now turned a new, appreciate eye to Volstagg. Thor might have found it all rather amusing if not for the heavy weight of the news Heimdall had just delivered.

“I cannot say for certain, your Majesty,” Heimdall responded. “It might have been a personal vendetta or perhaps an ambitious upstart who wishes to take his position on the council.”

Personal vendetta? Thor’s mind uncontrollably steered towards Loki, reminded of the fight he witnessed the other day. He recalled the angry words exchanged, the offense Duke Vidar caused, the violent rage writ across his brother’s face. The heaviness in Thor’s heart increased tenfold, now a steely anchor lodged in his chest. He breathed deeply and forced the unwanted thoughts and suspicions away. “How will we discover the perpetrator?”

“We are looking into it.” Heimdall paused, his eyes flickering with consideration. “Although…if the poisoner is indeed someone looking to create a vacancy in the council in order to fill it themselves, that does somewhat narrow our pool of suspects.”

Thor leaned closer. Heimdall’s brow furrowed, his expression reflecting the workings of plan forming in his mind. “What do you suggest?”

“Call a meeting,” Heimdall replied. “Invite all the likely candidates to replace Duke Vidar on the council. While they meet with the rest of the ministers, myself and a few of your personal guard will search all of their quarters. If they are clever they would have hidden any outstanding evidence, but they will not suspect their quarters to be so thoroughly searched either. We might find something.”

Thor considered the plan and slowly nodded his head in approval. He generally prefered to have everything out in the open, to challenge his adversaries face to face. This sort of sneaky plotting felt beneath him, as if he were sinking to the level of whichever honorless person was creating this strife within his court. However, now was no time to hold onto his scruples, not when his subjects’ lives were in the balance. “Have it done,” Thor commanded, glancing back towards the crowd who continued to cheer for Volstagg’s latest victory. Sif met his gaze, her eyes narrowed in concern at his humorless expression. “Collect the candidates and bring them to the Salon of Apollo.”

“Will you not join the meetings?” Heimdall asked in surprise. “Surely you would want to gauge who is best suited to replace Duke Vidar on your council?”

Thor shook his head. “No. It is not as if I can truly decide such a matter when one of them may very well be the murderer. Allow my uncle, Duke Tyr to oversee it.” Thor desperately needed to get away, to clear his mind from the petty, conniving mechanisms of the palace. “I am going for a ride.”

✴♔✵♔✴

“Mjölnir is all ready for you, your Majesty,” Thor’s groom announced. He led the magnificent gray steed out of the stable and onto the cobbled courtyard.

Thor reached out to pat Mjölnir’s long neck. “Hello beautiful,” he murmured before sliding his foot into the stirrup to launch himself onto her back.

He had hardly gathered the reins into his hand when he heard the sound of several hoofbeats approaching behind him. Thor didn’t need to turn his head to guess who was there. His suspicions were proven right a moment later when Sif trotted up to his side.

“Majesty,” she inclined her head in subservience, a stark contrast to the determination in her eyes.

“Sif,” he replied on a heavy sigh. The Knights Three rode up on Thor’s other side, including a red-faced, sweat-slick Volstagg. “Have you come straight from the tennis court?” he asked, chuckling, as Volstagg, still winded, merely nodded in response. He turned his attention back to Sif. “I take it I will not be riding alone?”

“Of course not,” Sif said cheerfully, her expression daring Thor to deny her. “Not when your friends are eager to keep you company.”

Thor appreciated the gesture but longed for some time alone to gather his thoughts; to try to comprehend the slow but seemingly inevitable decay of his court. “I was eager for some solitude,” he muttered, a desperate last attempt at escape.

“Nonsense,” Sif snorted, pressing her heel into her horse. Her chestnut mare galloped forward. “Come on, do keep up,” she called over her shoulder.

Thor turned to his friends, only to discover them shrugging sheepishly in reply and urging their horses to follow Sif. Thor chuckled to himself and, admitting defeat, cantered out of the courtyard and towards the forest trail.

They raced for some time, through the winding trees, their horses’ hoofs pounding against the dirt-packed road. Thor inhaled the crisp air, rejoiced in the fierce winds that tangled through his hair and whipped around his body. Mjölnir, as always, rode with perfect precision, needing little direction to follow Thor’s whims. With his friends at his side, he allowed the worries of oncoming wars, plots and treason, even his growing feelings for Loki, to melt away. The sky was clear, the weather perfect, and Thor melted into the memories of many days spent riding and hunting with his closest companions.

He was still smiling softly to himself when they stopped at a babbling stream to allow the horses to rest and drink. Insects hummed in the grass, a gentle melody accompanying his quickened pulse and slightly labored breathing. 

The unexpected peace, however, could only last so long.

“So...” Sif approached, giving him a pensive look. “What exactly did Heimdall tell you today that made you rush off for a ride?”

Thor gave her a long stare only to be met with a defiant glare. “You are observant.”

“Too much for her own good,” Volstagg added, coming to Thor’s other side.

Sif ignored Volstagg, stepping closer to Thor. “Talk to us, it is not good to keep it all locked inside.”

“Unless you do not trust us,” Fandral pouted, his mouth dipping in feigned offense.

Thor dismounted and walked towards the stream, the rushing of water a comforting sound. He dipped his hands into the moving water, letting it flow between his fingers. “You know that is not the case.” He paused, cupping his hands and splashing water over his dusty face. The cool liquid was a soothing balm to his heated skin. Rivulets of water dripped down his neck, removing the traces of dirt and fatigue. Feeling refreshed, he rose and faced his friends again. “Duke Vidar has been poisoned. Heimdall was informing me of his death.”

“Duke Vidar?” Fandral exclaimed, his eyes wide in shock. “From your own council?” 

“Who would dare be so bold to poison someone so close to you?” Hogun asked, anger filling his voice.

“That is practically treason! And a coward’s weapon at that, sneakingly plotting death rather than facing an adversary honorably on the field,” Volstagg muttered. He marched to Thor’s side and placed a hand upon his shoulder. “We will find this villian, root him out and make him pay.”

Sif, who had remained quiet during the Knights Three’s outbursts, carefully met Thor’s eyes. “Do you have any suspects?”

“No one concrete yet,” Thor replied slowly. He disliked the look on Sif’s face, that spreading wariness that usually preceded her sharing news Thor would not like nor want to hear. “Heimdall is investigating as we speak.”

Fandral, picking up on the rising tension, turned towards Sif. “Do you have a theory?”

Sif met Thor’s gaze once more before looking away. “I heard Loki and Duke Vidar quarreled the other day.”

“Sif,” Thor said in warning.

“It is not so unlikely,” Sif continued. “He does not get along with most of the court. I have heard him threaten countless nobles in the past. We all know of his love for alchemy and creating potions.”

“But poisons?” Fandral said with uncertainty. “Does that not seem a bit too far-fetched, even for our mischievous Prince?”

“Hardly,” Sif scoffed. “We were merely children when he offered me that potion for my hair, insisting it would make it grow long and shiny—”

“That was just a harmless prank,” Thor protested. Loki’s misdeeds with his friends in the past may have caused some animosity, but he could hardly believe they would accuse him of this.

“Harmless?” Sif scowled. “I used to be blonde—it never grew back right again after that.”

“Still,” Thor replied, frustration coloring his voice. “You are accusing my brother of murder.”

“He _is_ overly fond of alchemy,” Hogun added. “He never excelled in fighting or jousting, never even seemed interested in the activities a prince of Asgard should. Remember when he spent nearly a year in Ringsfjord, studying under Brona? Everyone knows that he is the most revered and powerful master in alchemy. There are even those who believe Brona has dabbled the dark arts. Who knows what sort of things he actually learned during that time.”

Silence fell among them as they all considered Hogun’s words. The babbling of the stream, the buzzing insects, the soft snorts from their horses, all were muted by the blood rushing through Thor’s ears. His heart raced, adrenaline and anger charging through his veins. He couldn’t believe their accusations were true, _wouldn’t_ believe it, refused to give them any credence. And yet...doubt crept into his mind.

“My brother is _not_ a suspect, nor would he ever commit such heinous crimes.” Thor’s hands clenched into tight fists, his fingernails digging painfully into his palms. “I will not hear you sully his name so.”

“Thor,” Sif pleaded, stepping forward. “We do not tell you these things to hurt you but you must open your eyes to the truth. Loki is not who you imagine him to be and this time he is not playing as a mere trickster for entertainment—lives are at stake. Your kingdom is at stake. I beg you, do not be blinded by your love for him.”

_His love for Loki._

The words were a pointed dagger to his heart, a sharp blade inserting itself into his chest. If only Sif knew how deep his love truly ran, how far fallen he already was. His head pounded, ached, felt ready to burst. The weight of their accusations and the kernels of truth within them sat heavy in his soul.

Thor turned away and walked towards Mjölnir, rubbing a placating hand over her neck. “Come, it is getting late.” He mounted his horse and maneuvered her back towards the forest trail. “We should return to the palace now.”

He pressed his heels into into Mjölnir’s flank and, without looking back to see if they followed, galloped away.

✴♔✵♔✴

✴♔✵♔✴

The moon had risen long ago, shining brightly in the inky sky. Stars glittered amongst the heavens, like diamonds strewn across an expanse of plush, dark velvet. The night was beautiful and serene, but sleep still evaded Thor. He walked aimlessly from his chambers, dismissing his sleepy servants, and headed towards one of his greatest accomplishments.

The hall of mirrors was an epic undertaking—one his council had been vehemently against—but even the most stubborn of his ministers had to admit the result was breathtaking. High arches, ornately decorated, stretched along the massive hall, allowing light to flood the corridor. Even in the midst of the night, the hall was illuminated with a celestial glow from the bright moon and shining stars. Expertly crafted mirrors lined the adjacent wall, reflecting the glories of the outside world.

Thor moved along the hall, the steady clicking of his shoes against the marble floor disturbing the otherwise peaceful quiet of the night. He had nearly reached the end of the corridor when he spotted a man leaning against one of the windows.

Loki.

His brother turned slowly, calmly inspecting who had come to disturb his solitude. He didn’t appear surprised, or startled, but rather eyed Thor with a steady resignation.

“It is late,” Loki remarked. His voice cut through the quiet of the hall, so clear and pointed his words nearly felt like a rebuke.

“Yes,” Thor agreed. He moved closer, joining Loki under the tall arch. He leaned against the opposite side and admired his brother’s captivating presence. 

It seemed almost unfair that his brother was gifted with such elegant beauty. Thor was not so humble to not recognize that he, himself, was indeed a handsome man. He certainly had many mistresses from his youth sing his praises, marvel over his golden hair and chiseled physique. In Thor’s mind however, nothing and nobody compared to Loki. His tall, slender body and creamy pale skin, his dark silky hair, his striking green eyes, the perfect curve of his lips—all his brother’s features joined together to create an ethereal beauty that could never be replicated. Thor’s looks had often been compared to the sun, shining and bright. His strength and power led to his namesake, The Thunder King, bold and loud and unafraid. Loki, however, reminded Thor of a bolt of lightening during a ferocious storm—a fierce strike, electric, and dangerous. Beautiful, but untouchable.

“You are staring.” Loki broke Thor’s whimsical thoughts, the slight edge of mocking in his voice grounding Thor back to reality.

“Am I?” Thor cleared his throat and offered a sheepish smile. “Forgive me, brother. I am surprised to find you here and not in bed. What are you doing awake?”

Loki turned his attention out the window and towards the gardens outside. “I prefer the palace at night. It is quieter, easier to think.”

“And what do you think of?”

Loki’s brow furrowed and his lips pressed tightly together. “Many things, none worth sharing.”

“I wish you would,” Thor persisted. “There was a time when you would tell me everything.”

The tension in Loki’s face increased. “No, not quite,” Loki said. “Not everything.”

Thor chewed his lip and continued to study Loki’s troubled face. He longed to break his brother open, discover what darkness he always seemed to keep right beneath the surface. “There were times you would share your mischief with me. How about the evenings we would sneak through the hidden passageways and spy on the court? You used to show me all the best hiding places even Father barely knew about.”

“I think Mother knew, though,” Loki admitted, a ghost of a smile gracing his lips. “She would give us both a stern lecture about etiquette and respecting one's privacy the next day.”

Thor chuckled softly under his breath. “Yes I recall those. She was downright furious when you openly asked her about the Marquis of Jolena’s love child.”

“Oh yes, she was rather upset about that.” Loki’s smile grew, as did the warmth in Thor’s chest.  
“She was even more frustrated when we refused to sit beside grand-uncle Mimir and hear his horrid stories about his love for herding goats.”

“I had forgotten about that,” Thor laughed heartily. “You made sure we got out of it with one of your clever concoctions. I heard Mimir’s bowels took quite a hit and he was indisposed for several days.”

“Mother was irate,” Loki admitted, sounding more proud than remorseful. “Even you were punished, despite trying to place all the blame on me.”

“Well, it was not my potion,” Thor protested. His smile began to fade as a gnawing sensation crept into his stomach. “You always were so skilled at that, creating draughts to get us out of nearly anything.”

“Yes, well, you did not seem to complain much when we were younger,” Loki rebutted. His eyes narrowed as he took in Thor’s changing expression. He crossed his arms defensively across his chest. “They were only harmless pranks.”

“Were they?” Thor mused. His throat began to tighten and he swallowed fiercely past the rising suspicion that grew by the second. He couldn’t bear to think his brother was complicit in the recent poisonings, and yet he also couldn’t banish the thought from his mind.

Loki’s face darkened, his eyes flashing with anger. “Is there something you are trying to say, brother?”

Thor’s stomach twisted at the simple question but he found he could not provide an honest answer. He longed to return to their carefree conversation from before. “No, nothing.” He paused, watching as the tension in Loki’s body slowly dissipated. “I just sometimes get wrapped up in the memories of our youth. Everything seemed simpler then.”

“Maybe for you,” Loki replied bitterly. He turned to look up at the ceiling, gazing at the gilded arches. “I am not sure things ever felt that simple to me.”

“No,” Thor agreed. “You were always so serious and far too clever, even as a child. It was rather embarrassing to have my younger brother excell me in all our studies.”

“Please,” Loki scoffed, a flattered flush filling his cheeks. “You might have done better if you only applied yourself.”

“Books never interested me. A joust or a hunt, however…”

“Yes,” Loki smiled softly. “You always did love your adventures.”

“As did you,” Thor insisted, practically beaming as the happy memories flooded in. “We would ride all day together sometimes, deep into the woods. Do you recall the day we got lost? The sun had long set by the time Heimdall found us.”

“I remember,” Loki said, his eyes filling with mirth. “You were terrified.”

“I was not!” Thor protested. “In fact I was the one who had to comfort you when you were on the verge of tears.”

Loki let out a sharp bark of laughter. “Your memory fails you brother. You would not let go of my hand when the sun dipped below the horizon and the shadows grew longer. Even that night you snuck into my bed and refused to sleep alone.”

Thor’s face heated, a flush spreading across his warm skin. “I was only looking out for you, as any older brother should. I wanted to make sure you were okay.”

“Is that what you were doing?” Loki asked slowly. The mischief returned to his eyes and Thor could sense the moment changing, feel the air grow heavy between them.

“Yes,” Thor replied, his voice low. 

Loki’s lips curved into a smirk and he took a step forward. “I recall many nights you would sneak into my bed, hold me close and tight. Was that all in the name of protection?”

Thor swallowed heavily. “Yes.”

“How kind you were, brother.” Another step. “To look after me so.”

Thor, unable to resist, [leaned forward and clasped his hand around Loki’s neck.](https://mugglelissa.tumblr.com/image/179587489741) The action was so familiar, something he had done a thousand times before. This time, however, he felt awkward and stiff, as if he were trespassing upon some forbidden ground. “I will always look after you,” he said quietly in the diminishing space between them.

Loki’s eyes flicked down to Thor’s lips before lifting again to meet his hungry gaze. “Is that a promise?”

Thor’s heart thudded painfully against his chest, so loud in the quiet hall he was sure Loki could hear it. He could feel Loki’s pulse beneath his hand and the comforting touch soon morphed into something else. He felt the pressure lessen, his fingertips gliding softly, slowly, into the silky strands of Loki’s hair. “Yes,” he answered on a breathy exhale.

“Your Majesty.”

Röskva’s voice cut through the silence like a knife, sharp and painful. Thor pulled his hand away from Loki’s neck as if burned and quickly turned to face his valet.

Röskva bowed his head in apology. “I am sorry to disturb you. Your chamber guards were concerned by your absence.”

“I was just taking a walk through the palace,” Thor responded, willing away the frustration from his voice. “Nothing for them to worry about.”

Röskva nodded, his eyes trained on the floor. “Should I tell them you will be gone for a bit longer?”

“No,” Loki answered before Thor could even open his mouth. “His Majesty should sleep.”

Röskva glanced nervously between Thor and Loki, unsure of what to do next. Thor took pity on his dutiful valet and stepped away from the window. “Loki is right. It is late, we should all return to our chambers.” His gaze lingered a moment longer on Loki before he forced his eyes away. “Come, Röskva.”

Loki, also, stepped away from the window and made his way towards the other end of the hall. “Goodnight, brother.”

Thor took a final glance at Loki, his raven hair shining in the moonlight. He pushed away the fierce pang of longing and regret lingering in his chest.

“Goodnight.”

✴♔✵♔✴

✴♔✵♔✴

Thor stared at the map spread across the table, the curling ends held down with gleaming copper weights. Afternoon was fading into evening and shadows grew across the room casting the corners into darkness. Thor gestured for candles to be lit and turned towards his uncle, Duke Tyr.

“Have we heard from Nidavellir yet?”

Tyr nodded in confirmation. “Yes, your majesty. They remain our allies, although…” he cleared his throat and hesitantly added, “they have insisted once more they would prefer not to enter a costly war.”

Thor groaned in frustration. “We would all prefer peace, of course,” he muttered bitterly. “Not all of us can afford to do so, however.” He traced his finger along the edge of the map. “What about the uprisings in Thryheim?”

“We have sent more of your Majesty’s troops to the border in order to regain control over the region.” Duke Hoder stepped forward. “Although...”

Thor looked up sharply. “What is it?”

“The people are unruly and difficult to control,” Tyr answered. Hoder frowned and opened his mouth to reply but Tyr continued, “If I may speak plainly, Thor, we are a country known for our success in battles, our fervor for war. Peace may suit others, but it is not in our blood. Your father would have already had our army formed and preparing for invasion. I believe war with Jotunheim is inevitable.”

Thor sighed and rubbed his forehead with his fingers. “Are we truly so far gone?”

“I think perhaps Duke Tyr exaggerates,” Hoder replied, his voice tinged with disapproval. “Though we do need to address the issues at the border. Any progress we make seems to be destroyed soon after. Almost as if someone is deliberately spreading distress and wrecking havoc.”

The clock in the corner of the room chimed loudly, abruptly silencing the council members’ muttered responses. Thor placed his hands on the table and leaned forward, eyes fixed on the map of Asgard. His ministers and he had been deliberating for the better part of the afternoon on how to proceed with the rising tension between their neighboring countries and had yet to reach any conclusive solution. The sharp knock on the outer doors was a welcome distraction and Thor nearly grinned at Heimdall’s sudden appearance.

That was, until he saw the expression on Heimdall’s face.

“Majesty,” Heimdall greeted Thor, his face grim. “I am sorry to interrupt but I must insist you come with me.”

Thor turned towards the rest of his council and waved his hands in dismissal. “We will continue this discussion tomorrow.” 

He only faintly heard the parting words of his ministers as he was hurried out of the room and down the hall. 

“What is it?” Thor asked, following Heimdall’s determined march, misgivings already stirring low in his stomach.

“More deaths,” Heimdall answered under his breath. He turned a corner, guiding Thor towards the noble’s residential quarters. “Antoine Sturluson and his two sons, Francis and Dreux were found dead this morning. The Marquis of Brinvilheim has been hysterical since. Even her betrothed, Godrin, could hardly calm her down.”

“Marie?” Thor sighed heavily. “How terrible. She must be so distraught.” Thor ran his hands through his hair. “I knew her family well. To lose so much in so little time…” he muttered, his voice tinged with sympathy. “I cannot even imagine what she is going through.” He looked up at Heimdall. “Do you believe it to be poison?”

Heimdall’s eyes flickered and the corners of his mouth tightened further. “We cannot say just yet. That is part of the problem—Marie will not let us near the bodies.”

Thor paused as they approached the outside of the Sturlusons’ rooms. He inhaled sharply and looked towards Heimdall, nodding his head once.

Heimdall knocked on the door sharply before pushing it open. “The King,” he announced.

“Your Majesty!” Monsieur Godrin bowed deeply, but his fiance, Marie, only wept louder at Thor’s appearance. “Please forgive our dear Marie. She is still in shock.”

“Of course,” Thor said solemnly, stepping into the room. “We all share her grief at these terrible events. Antoine has been at court many years and was a good friend to my father. Your brothers were training to be knights of the Kingsguard, were they not?”

“Yes, your Majesty,” Marie sobbed. Her golden curls were a mess around her pink, tear-strewn face. “Their untimely deaths have—have—” Her words turned into a muffled wail as threw herself into her fiance’s arms.

“We shall honor them both, along with your father.” Thor stepped forward and motioned for one of his guards to move further into the lavish apartments. “Allow us to prepare the bodies.”

“No!” Marie leapt up, blocking the path of Thor’s man. “It is not safe,” she insisted, her voice hoarse and desperate. “They might be carrying the sweating sickness!”

Thor’s guard unconsciously flinched and took a step backward.

“The sweating sickness?” Thor asked dubiously.

“Well, yes.” Godrin stepped forward and put a calming hand on Marie’s trembling arm. “How else could you explain the sudden death of all three of the, otherwise, healthy men?”

“How else indeed,” Heimdall murmured under his breath. Thor’s pulse flickered, his heart pounding in denial to the theories swirling in his mind.

“All the more reason you should allow our men to examine their bodies,” Thor explained calmly. “It is not safe for either of you to remain in these quarters.”

Marie fiercely shook her head and stared at Thor with watery eyes. “No, we must wait for my father’s solicitor. He will be here by tomorrow.”

Thor frowned. “His solicitor?”

“He has my father’s will and the papers of his estate,” she said between sniffs. “It all must be done properly.”

Thor watched Godrin’s expression darken from the corner of his eye before the handsome young man’s face smoothed again. “Please, forgive our dear Marie, your Majesty. She is weighed down with grief and can hardly think yet alone converse in polite company. She needs to rest.”

“Of course,” Thor agreed, his mind racing. “You both must be exhausted. I will keep my guard here tonight in case you need anything.”

Godrin’s lips curled in gratitude, an eerie smile that did not quite reach his eyes. “You are most gracious, thank you.”

Thor smiled in return, his pulse hammering beneath his skin, and walked out the door. Heimdall was close behind him.

“Something is not quite right there,” Thor said quietly.

Heimdall remained silent for a moment before adding, “Antoine Sturluson is a very rich man.”

“Was a rich man,” Thor corrected. “And now his daughter Marie and her betrothed will be. They stand to inherit everything.” The words tasted sour in his mouth. He turned towards Heimdall. “I want you to stay tonight. Question them both, together and separately. Get to the bottom of this.”

“Yes, Majesty,” Heimdall replied. “And what will you do?”

Thor pressed his fingers against his throbbing temples. “Retire for the night and try to get some sleep.” He sighed heavily and turned away, the words like ash against his tongue. “If any rest can be found in this gilded prison of deception.”

✴♔✵♔✴

Thor had nearly reached his quarters when Fandral abruptly appeared at his side.

“Thor!” He called out jovially, earning a reproachful look from one of Thor’s guards. “Excuse me,” Fandral bowed his head in part-sincere apology. “Your Majesty,” he amended.

“Fandral,” Thor greeted, amused by his animated energy. “What can I do for you?”

Fandral placed a hand upon his heart. “Now why do you automatically assume I want something?” he asked with feigned hurt spread across his face.

Thor glanced at the darkening sky outside, the sun long set and the gardens cast in violet shadows. “Let us see. It is the height of the evening and instead of playing cards with the rest, gambling all your money away, you are here outside my corridor.”

“Maybe I just wanted to say hello and ask you to join.” Fandral shrugged, a bit too nonchalantly. He took a good look at Thor, at the dark circles and lines likely creased around his eyes, and his expression grew serious. “More problems?”

“When are there not?” Thor laughed sadly.

Fandral placed a comforting hand on Thor’s shoulder. “Maybe you really should come join me. A bit of cards might distract you from your woes.”

“That is not likely,” Thor snorted in return. “I believe having to interact with the court directly would only further remind me of the issue at hand.”

“I see.” Fandral chewed his lip and looked away. “I suppose my request might not be a welcome one, then.”

Thor raised a brow and crossed his arms, turning towards his friend. “Tell me plainly.”

“I thought perhaps we might have a bit of fun tomorrow evening.”

“Fun?” Thor asked skeptically.

“Well, cards and games are all well and good, but what if we added something extra? Perhaps some fortune telling?”

Thor groaned and continued his trek towards his room. “You know how I feel about those.”

“I know, I know.” Fandral chased after Thor. “You find it all false and even a bit offensive at times, but…”

“What is it?” Thor asked, slowing his steps.

“I do not know how else I shall get Lorelei here at court,” Fandral blurted out desperately. “She is so elusive and has refused all my invitations before. But if we had a special event, one where her sister was giving readings, then—”

“Wait.” Thor stopped and turned to face Fandral. “Lorelei? You mean Amora’s sister?”

“Well, that is—”

“You want me to invite Amora to court to tell fortunes?” Thor asked in disbelief. Fandral’s eyes went very round as he nodded hopefully. Thor groaned loudly. “I have not seen Amora in over a year and that’s by no accident. That woman is out of her mind; her honeyed words hardly mask their ill intent. She is far too clever for her own good.” He clenched his fists and willed away the bitter memories. “I cannot have her in these halls again.”

“Come, Thor,” Fandral pleaded. “That was all so long ago. You had a fondness for her once, did you not? I do not think you ever had just one mistress for so long.

“That was before I saw her for who she truly was,” Thor insisted. “I doubt I would fall under her spell again but, still, to have her here—”

“She will behave, I promise,” Fandral cut in earnestly. “I will take full responsibility for her. I cannot think of any other way to get Lorelei to come.”

“Fandral…”

“Please, Thor,” Fandral pleaded, his expression so pitiful Thor felt his objection begin to weaken.

“Fine,” Thor relented. “For one night only. And warn her to keep her fortunes light. No one needs to hear about the end of days or whatever nonsense she loves to stir up.”

“Thank you!” Fandral’s entire face lit up, joy shining brightly in his eyes. The sheer happiness of his friend’s expression dulled the edge of the misgivings Thor felt at inviting his ex-lover to the palace. Fandral deserved to find love, even if his attentions did happen to fall on that enchantress’ younger sister. “I should be off then, before you change your mind,” Fandral said merrily, rapidly making his retreat from Thor’s quarters.

Thor watched him rush off, a steady ache increasing in his chest. He recalled that simple feeling of infatuation; the pure joy of courting and chasing one’s affection. Now all his longing twisted him in knots, his desire and passion drawn to the one person he couldn’t have. He tried to push such thoughts away as he walked into his room. The curtains were closed and darkness enveloped him in a chilly embrace. He stared at the faint outline of his bed, wondering if sleep would indeed find him that night and if, once more, his brother would haunt his dreams.

✴♔✵♔✴

✴♔✵♔✴

Lively music filled the room, bright and melodic. It traveled through the air and wove around the bustling court. Nobles mingled together, clad in their finest attire, each outfit more extravagant than the next. Ever since Thor had handed the task of creating a guideline of how his nobles should behave over to his brother, new and more intricate fashions bloomed to life. The so-called etiquette commanded a ridiculous set of rules: when and how one should eat, in what order one dressed, and, most importantly Loki claimed, what colors and styles were in season from month to month.

It was a dizzying affair, one Thor was certain Loki made as complicated as possible in order to drive him mad. It always seemed no matter how hard Thor tried to give Loki new responsibilities, something to quell his constant boredom at court—and likewise keep him out of trouble—the more Loki appeared to resent him for it. The newest fashion, consisting of heavily embroidered gowns and waistcoats, seemed unnecessarily cruel given the muggy late summer heat.

Complaints aside, the latest fashion did provide a rather stunning visual.

Thor couldn’t take his eyes away from Loki as his brother swept into the room. Golden thread wove into his olive colored waist coat, the shining material gleaming under the glow of the many candles filling the room. His dark hair fell in soft waves across his shoulders, the tips barely kissing the freshly polished buttons of his coat. Green, black and gold—the colors his brother favored and that suited him so well.

Thor swallowed uselessly, his mouth dry and throat tightening by the minute as Loki moved to stand beside him.

“Quite a night you have put together,” Loki noted idly, as if commenting on the weather. “A suitable distraction from the tragedy of the Sturluson family.”

Thor stiffened and he fought to keep his face neutral. “It is indeed quite a loss. Antoine and his sons were brave and loyal men.” He paused before carefully adding, “Word travels fast I see. We have not released the news to the public yet.”

“A prince of Asgard is hardly the public,” Loki replied with a cold smile. “Of course I would know about it. What I find so curious is that I have not been able to visit poor Marie to offer my condolences. In fact, I heard word that she and her betrothed are currently being held in the royal dungeon.”

Thor narrowed his eyes and worked tirelessly to control his pounding heart and rising temper. “You are a wealth of information, brother. I cannot help but wonder how you manage to learn so much so quickly.”

Loki chuckled and placed a hand over his heart. “My dear brother, you are always so predictable. Why is it so easy to rile you up?”

Thor frowned and looked away. “I am not in the mood for your games.” It was a marvel how Loki could always elicit such a whirlwind of emotions in such a short period of time. In one moment he desired to embrace him and in the next throttle him.

“Perhaps your anger is not truly directed at me,” Loki said quietly. Thor slowly turned to face his brother once again. “Could it be you are feeling a bit guilty?”

Thor’s pulse sped, hammering against his neck. “What do you mean?”

Loki shrugged his shoulders with feigned nonchalance. “Heimdall is questioning the pair, is he not?” Thor clenched his jaw but otherwise remained silent. “Of course. He must be. You need to get to the bottom of the Sturlusons’ deaths. I do wonder exactly what methods our Grand Marshal is using to learn the truth?”

Thor’s control snapped and his eyes flashed dangerously. “You know I do not condone torture.”

“Brother,” Loki said, placating, his eyes wide in false shock. “No one ever said anything about torture. Though it certainly would speed things up, do you not think? Father would never have shied away from using everything he could to discover what plots brewed around him.”

“I am not our father,” Thor said tightly. The words stung even from his own lips.

“No,” Loki agreed. “Father would have done it himself instead of feigning ignorance and allowing others to do his dirty work.”

Frustration swelled in Thor’s chest, fierce and hot. He stepped towards Loki, his hands clenched in angry fists at his side. “Why are you here, brother? You hate gatherings like these. Have you come just to rub more salt in my wounds, to accuse me of being too harsh and too cowardly all in one go?”

Loki’s icy posture faltered. He lowered his eyes and exhaled heavily. When his gaze lifted again there was a softness in them that shook Thor to his bones. He could feel his anger slowly melt away and, once more, cursed himself for being so susceptible to his brother’s varying moods.

“It is a rather impressive party,” Loki commented after a long silence. He was always too skilled at sidestepping and changing the subject to suit him best. He gestured towards the far corner where a rumpus of excited nobles surrounded a small table. “I see you have even gone as far as to invite _her_.”

Thor followed Loki’s gaze, wincing slightly when he caught sight of Amora laying her cards along the table. “Fandral insisted. He was really rather persistent.” 

“Is that all?” Loki snorted in disbelief. Thor wasn’t sure if he should be relieved or frustrated to have Loki back to his usual, prickly self. “I am sure there was a secret part of you thrilled at the idea of having her back at the palace.”

Thor shook his head in denial. “Amora and my relations ended long ago. I hardly relish having her here again—”

Loki laughed, a cold, empty thing. “Come now, brother. There is no need to be so defensive. She is a wicked wench indeed but, honestly, she was the most amusing of your paramours. Certainly better than all those simpering love-struck girls you bedded in the past.”

“Loki,” Thor warned. His face began to heat despite himself. “There have not been all that many—”

“You can do as you like,” Loki cut in, his voice again like ice. He waved his hand in indifference. Amora let out a laugh across the room, a sharp melody cutting through the air. Her golden hair was pulled back in various intricate braids, only a few curls let loose to fall over her bare shoulder. She was stunning, there was no denying that. Beautiful and deadly. Loki released a disdainful scoff, quickly drawing Thor’s attention back to his brother. Loki’s lips were pressed together tightly in displeasure. Beautiful but deadly—Thor certainly had a type. “It seems she has already enchanted you. Some things never change.”

“You are wrong,” Thor retorted gruffly. He grabbed at Loki’s arm, ignoring the glint of anger that flashed across his face. “There is only one person who occupies my mind.” Loki made to pull his arm away but Thor tightened his grip. They stared in heated deadlock, Loki’s vivid green eyes swimming with unspoken words. Thor returned the stare, trying his best to convey all he felt but feared to speak aloud. “Loki,” he pleaded softly.

“Come, your Majesty!” Fandral bounded over, his mouth spread into a happy grin. His face was flushed in the manner of one who has had one drink too many. “You must have your fortune told.”

“Fandral.” Thor scowled. “This was not part of our agreement.”

“It will be fun,” Fandral insisted. “Everyone else has already done so. You should have heard the predictions Mademoiselle Amora made about my future of romance. Lorelei was right beside me and turned bright red when Amora said my true love was close by.”

“You should give it a try,” Loki said flatly, finally pulling his arm free. “Do you not wonder what fate has in store for you? I am sure we all long to know the future of our great King.”

Thor opened his mouth to further protest but Fandral had already grabbed onto his arm and was pulling him across the room. The nobles crowded around the small table swiftly cleared a path as Thor was shoved forward, nearly tumbling as he fell into the waiting chair. He turned to give Fandral a fierce look that spoke of revenge to come but his friend’s attention was already elsewhere, his gaze hopelessly fixed upon Lorelei who stood beside her sister.

“Majesty,” Amora greeted, voice warm and sweet like honey. Thor knew that sound, could read between the breathy, melodic docility. Her words trickled sweetly from her pretty mouth, only to sting where they hurt most later. “Thank you so much for your invitation. The palace is even more grand and beautiful than I remember.”

“You are most welcome,” Thor replied through gritted teeth. Amora’s eyes flashed with dangerous amusement at Thor’s clear discomfort. 

She gathered the deck of cards on the table and began to idly shuffle, her gaze never leaving Thor’s face. Heavy rings adorned her fingers, large gems sparkling in the low light of the room. “It has been far too long since I have last been here. Tell me, darling,” she purred, voice dipping low and intimate, “does your private bath still overlook the east gardens? I recall how lovely the moon was at night, shining brightly through the open windows.” She paused her shuffling and set the cards down, her fingertip tracing a pattern along the edges. “All that wet flesh, set alight in a silvery glow.”

The few nobles who lingered at the table smiled behind their hands, a low murmuring stirring amongst them. Thor flushed, more from frustration than embarrassment. His jaw clenched and as he consciously controlled his breathing. “I believe you wanted to read my fortune,” he said cooly. “Should we just get on with it?”

“So impatient,” Amora laughed with delight, tilting her head back she exposed her long, pale neck. She was as enchanting as ever with her fluting voice and beguiling features, but Thor’s passion was well and spent. Not even a spark of desire stirred inside him. Instead, he felt a heavy weariness in her presence. The only tension singing in his body came from mistrust and caution. Amora, perhaps sensing this, narrowed her eyes. Her smile became strained. “Of course, your Majesty. Let us begin. Should we start with a palm reading?” She reached across the table and took his hand, turning it over to examine. Elegant fingers traced the deeply etched lines in his palm. “As always, you are so easy to read,” she murmured.

Thor looked away, already agitated with her tiresome games. He immediately wished he hadn’t. Across the room stood Loki, arms crossed and eyes dark. His gaze met Thor’s and held, a million unspoken words communicated across the space between them. Loki’s posture was stiff, his expression hard, his eyes bitter and disappointed. Thor broke the stare with a start and, turning back towards Amora, snatched his hand away as if burnt.

Amora’s unrelenting gaze bore into him, her lips curling into a knowing smile. “Oh, Thor,” she said with feigned sympathy. “You are an open book are you not? Your desires laid bare for the world to see.”

Thor’s cheeks heated, his hand curling into an angry fist where it still lay on the table. “I think we are done here.”

“Oh no my dear, we have only just begun.” Amora smirked devilishly and began to shuffle again. “We must see what the cards have in store for you. Are you not curious what the future holds?”

“I hardly think a silly superstition will give me any insight,” Thor scoffed. He looked away again, searching for Loki only to find he had vanished from the spot. His heart sunk as he scanned the room but soon discovered he had left all together.

When he turned back he saw Amora’s false smile had faded. The flirtatious light left her eyes to be replaced with something dark and serious. “Do not mock the cards nor the power behind them,” she warned icily.

Thor felt a chill creep up his spine. It seemed as if the room grew quieter, though at this point the two of them were being mostly ignored. Still, the music and conversation around them seemed to transform to a dull buzz. Amora spread the cards and the slight sound as they moved against the table sounded deafening in Thor’s ears.

Slowly she selected three cards and pushed them, face down, towards the center of the table. Her fingers hovered over the first one but she hesitated to turn it over. Thor could see a slight tremble traveling up her wrist. His pulse sped with forewarning.

Cautiously she turned the first card over to reveal the image. A man hung suspended, head first, on leg tied to branch above him.

“The hanged man,” Amora murmured. All playfulness had fled from her voice, and though her tone was still dreamy, she sounded more entranced than her usual seductive self. “You must step back in order to move forward. Relinquish control or you will never find the truth, you shall remain stuck, forever playing the victim.”

“That is enough,” Thor bristled. He felt wildly uncomfortable, skin crawling with unease.

She turned the next card over. A grotesque winged figure, standing above two ghoulish bound men. Thor’s mounting distress sharply increased. His breath quickened and a bead of sweat formed high on his brow.

“The Devil,” she all but whispered. “You are living a lie, bound by misconceptions and manipulation. You remain willfully ignorant, in the dark, blinded from the truth. The roots are rotted, they poison the harvest but still you feast—”

“Amora,” Thor hissed. His heart pounded against his chest.

She turned over the last card. “The eight of swords,” the words left her with a shaky exhale. “You are wreaking your own havoc, bringing your own destruction. Everything will crumble to dust. You are trapped in your own ornate prison. Beware,” she warned her eyes wide and lips trembling. “Beware the serpent in the grass, the enemy that hides in plain sight. They will strike and destroy everything—”

“Enough!” Thor roared, jumping to his feet. The revelry around him came to a halt. Concerned nobles all turned towards the commotion. Thor stood, shaking in a cold sweat, staring down at Amora. “Take this temptress away,” he commanded.

Fandral stepped forward, his eyes darting nervously between the two of them. He carefully laid a hand on Amora’s shoulder. “I believe it is time to leave.”

“The cards do not lie,” she seethed, fighting against Fandral’s grip. “Beware Thor Odinson, The Thunder King, ruler of Asgard. You are clouded in deception. Death and destruction follow you like a foul shadow!”

The court gasped in dismay at her bold words and dark predictions. Hogun raced forward to grasp Amora’s other arm and assist Fandral in dragging her away. 

Thor’s blood felt like ice in his veins, chilling him to his core. His head pounded with barely suppressed raged mixed with increasing fear. He turned on his heel, ignoring the shocked murmuring of the crowd, and hurried from the room.

✴♔✵♔✴

Thor raised the golden goblet to his mouth, the shaking in his hand now reduced to only a slight tremor. He drank deeply from the cup, letting the dark wine fill his mouth for a mere moment before swallowing it down in long, desperate gulps. He had dismissed his valet and most of his guards, preferring to drink in solitude as he attempted to wipe Amora’s eerie warning from his mind.

He had nearly finished half the jug by his bedside when a sharp knock broke him from his tumultuous thoughts.

“Come in,” Thor called out. He wiped the remaining crimson drops from his lips and stood. Heimdall entered, his face grim as ever. Thor gestured for him to come further inside. “Tell me.”

“They would not budge at first,” Heimdall replied, forgoeing niceties and launching immediately into his report. “Godrin played innocent and Marie remained mostly hysterical. Once we separated them, however, things changed. I convinced each of them that the other had already betrayed them, spilled their secrets and it was not long after that the truth came out.”

“Well?” Thor asked impatiently. The wine was settling into his gut, turning unpleasantly in his stomach.

“It was poison, as we suspected. Each of them blamed the other, of course, claiming it was not their idea. Inheritance powder,” Heimdall said with disgust, “or so they called it. A simple solution to Marie receiving all her family’s money and estates and, by default, her soon-to-be husband would inherit it as well.”

“Where did they get this poison?” Thor asked. The remaining traces of drink felt sour in his mouth and he swallowed against the bitter taste.

Heimdall shifted and lowered his gaze. “Apologies your Majesty. I could not get them to reveal their source. It seems the fear of the supposed repercussions of confessing their merchant outweighed my own threats. I did discover that they purchased them here at court, however. They both insisted that they were not alone, that many of your Majesty's nobles partake in the exchange of potions and powders.” Heimdall paused, his lips pursed as if he wished to say more but could not bring the words to fruition. The room felt heavy with tension. 

“What is it?” Thor asked uneasily.

Heimdall took a deep breath before he continued. “As you know, I searched all the nobles’ rooms. I found very little of consequence, for the most part. However…” Thor urged him on with an impatient wave of his hand. “Prince Loki had some suspicious items in one of his chests.”

“Loki?” Thor’s heart thudded against his chest. “You searched my brother’s rooms?”

“We needed to be thorough,” Heimdall replied, straightening his shoulders and lifting his gaze. “Is the Prince not a viable candidate for the newly vacant position on the council?”

Thor huffed with frustration. “Loki has little interest in politics.” He bit at his lower lip, worrying the flesh so zealously he nearly drew blood. He gathered his courage and asked, “What did you find?”

“The Prince has a small chest, beneath his bed. It was secured with several locks but I was able to break through them after some time.” He stepped closer, voice lowering. “There was a multitude of ingredients inside, mandrake, nettle, wormgrass, and many more I could not identify. I also found various vials and tinctures, some half-full and some empty, as if they had already been used—”

“We all know my brother is fond of alchemy,” Thor cut in, voice too loud. His pulse seemed to increase tenfold, his blood rushing thunderously through his ears. “These discoveries mean nothing.” The words tasted false on his tongue.

“I would not dismiss these findings so quickly, your Majesty,” Heimdall insisted. “Many of the herbs and roots he had were very rare and some I know to be deadly. There is also the matter of the list…”

The blood drained from Thor’s face. He felt dizzy with dread. “What list?”

Heimdall appeared reluctant to continue but he pressed on regardless. “We found a book in his room with a list of names, all nobles at your Majesty’s court. Some of the names were already crossed out and others had small notes and symbols next to them. It appears that the Prince is plotting something, though it is unclear exactly what his intentions are.”

Thor ran his hand over his face. He felt weary to his bones and utterly sick with doubt. “I will look into my brother’s potential transgressions myself,” he asserted decisively. “As for the rest, keep investigating and looking into who is buying powders and for what purpose. I want you to keep a close eye on the court,” he commanded. “Do whatever it takes to discover the truth.”

✴♔✵♔✴

Sleep refused to find Thor that night and, after dismissing Heimdall and pacing in his chambers for some time, he wandered into the long corridors looking for distraction. It was quite late and the revelry from the earlier party had died down. A few members of court were passed out in the outskirts of the main salon, draped over each other on plush chairs in drunken slumber. His own veins sung with the wine he’d consumed earlier, but after his meeting with Heimdall the buzz had dulled and turned into a pounding ache which pressed against his skull.

He passed the hall of mirrors and found he had unconsciously wandered towards his brother’s wing of the palace. Unlike the quiet remnants of the main salon, music and cheerful voices spilled from Loki’s entertaining room and into the corridor. Thor paused outside the threshold, his hand resting against the partially ajar door, before pushing it fully open.

The scene before him was typical of Loki’s usual soirees; lively music, overflowing drinks, rambunctious attendees in flamboyant clothing, wrapped together in licentious acts. For some reason, however, the visual made his stomach twist this evening. 

Loki stood in the center of the room, raised slightly on a dias. His head was tilted back in laughter, his lips stained red from the sweet berry wine he prefered. An ornate corset, littered with pearls and jewels, was firmly wrapped around his torso. The feminine article contrasted erotically with the plain black trousers he wore. There was a glaze in his glittering green eyes, one that spoke of too much drink. The Chevalier stood beside him, an arm wrapped around his waist to keep him from toppling over. The Chevalier’s golden curls fell forward as he leaned in to murmur into Loki’s ear.

Thor’s blood ran white hot, a rising rage overtaking all his better senses.

“Get out.” His command, though not quite a shout was loud enough to catch the musicians attention and bring the room to near silence. A soft murmur or suppressed giggle was the only sound to break the quiet.

“Brother,” Loki called out, almost sounding pleased. Thor knew better, knew how to read between the lines. “What are you doing here, so far from your quarters? Did you get lost?”

The Chevalier laughed at that, his fingers pressing possessively at Loki’s hip.

Thor saw red.

In a few, quick strides he was across the room and pulling the Chevalier off of Loki. He released a surprised gasp, mixed with disdain and a bit of fear. Thor’s eyes flashed dangerously and the Chevalier seemed to heed the warning as he backed away slowly. “Get out,” Thor repeated, trembling with anger. “All of you!”

The room quickly emptied until it was only Thor and Loki who remained. His brother appeared unimpressed; his arms crossed over his chest, a bored expression painted on his face.

“Now why would you do that, brother?” Loki asked, his voice like winter. “We were having such fun.”

Thor’s fury crested and he dug his fingers into the fleshy palms of his tightly clenched fists. He was not known for his restraint. “I am glad you can have fun during such a time,” he answered tightly.

“What sort of time do you speak of brother?” Loki asked with false innocence. He walked down from the dias, hips swaying as he went. Thor forced his hungry eyes away. “You must be clearer with me.”

“You know what is going on in the palace, in the court,” Thor hissed angrily. “Do not play the fool, Loki. It does not suit you.”

Loki’s pretense cracked and the first real sparks of anger ignited in his narrowed eyes. “Does it not?”

“I tire of your games,” Thor continued, his frustration mounting once more. “I have enough troubles on my mind, enough burdens on my shoulders without having to worry about you. We are on the brink of war, tensions are rising to the breaking point on our borders, my own court is unstable and full of liars, and cheats—”

“And murderers,” Loki added darkly, his tone flat and displeased.

“Yes, and murderers,” Thor pressed on, refusing to let Loki take control of their conversation. “Precisely that. I am spread thin on all ends and yet I find you here, drinking and playing dress up, making a mockery of me.”

“A mockery?” Loki’s expression turned murderous. He no longer concealed the blind hatred burning in his eyes.

“You flaunt yourself about the court, all deceitful smiles and shameless flirting, dressed like a—”

“How am I dressed?” Loki spat, lifting his arms to better display his outfit. “Tell me Thor, did our own mother not dress me like this as a child?”

Thor paused, a heat rising in his cheeks. “Not quite like _that_. Besides, she never encouraged you to...to express your clear preferences so visibly about the court.”

“Oh,” Loki scoffed cruelly. “You mean that I fuck men?” The angry flush on Thor’s cheeks intensified. He could feel his heart race at Loki’s crass words and the implication of them. Images he would rather not see burst into his mind. Thor felt himself become uncontrollably aroused and urgently tried to extinguish his growing interest. He looked away abruptly which only caused Loki to laugh harder. “The court does not care, they find me and my indulgences amusing. The council cares even less, in fact they rejoice in my habits. Your ministers are glad I pose no threat to you as often a younger royal prince has throughout history.”

Thor’s thundering pulse began to settle but in its place unease crept into this chest. Loki was not wrong and Thor shamefully knew the truth of his words but he couldn’t let it rest, couldn’t cave in and allow Loki to have the upperhand. Thor couldn’t speak the truth of what really had his insides all twisted up.

“Tell me, brother,” Loki said, after allowing the silence to grow between them. He sounded defeated himself, less angry and more tired. “Why should my _perversions_ bother you so much? I have heard you have taken the odd male lover over the years. Should you not look into a mirror and judge yourself first before coming to me? You should be finding a wife and begetting an heir instead of your constant whoring around.”

The anger which was slowly seeping away came back like a bolt of lightning. “How dare you speak to your King that way!”

Loki snorted, unconcerned at Thor’s rageful expression. “I speak to you as a man would to another. Or are you no longer a man but view yourself so far above? You may be King but you are not a god.”

“Loki...” Thor warned.

“Tell me, how was your session with Amora?” Loki asked, his voice growing quieter. “What fortune did she reveal to you?”

To anyone else it might appear Loki was trying to change the subject. Thor was not always as clever or sharp as Loki, but he still knew his brother better than anyone. The two issues at hand were closer connected than he thought. “You should have stayed,” Thor replied, his voice matching Loki’s. “Then you might have heard it for yourself.”

“You may be a bit of exhibsionist but I am no voyuer. I have no desire to watch you and your mistress in your twisted games of foreplay.” Loki muttered the words as if they were disdainful to even speak aloud. 

Thor could feel the moment changing, the energy shifting in the room. His previous anger draining from him as it so often did when he spoke with Loki. All of his cruel words and mischievous actions fading into the abyss, Thor was blinded again by his desire to be close to his brother, to understand him fully, once and for all. “Why must we fight like this?” he asked sadly. “Why can we not be friends as we were once before?”

Loki’s jaw tightened in response. “Friends? When were we ever truly friends?” Thor opened his mouth to respond but was quickly cut off. “You do not want me as a friend, as a brother, as an equal. You desire me to be like your fawning admirers, like your loyal Sif, like your clueless Knights Three. You wish me to stand with you only if I diminish myself, as long as I do not shine too brightly beside you. But, my dear brother,” he continued with tragic disdain, “I am not a creature of the day, able to withstand the withering light of the sun.”

“That is not true,” Thor protested. He grasped for the words to contradict Loki’s accusations but found himself rendered speechless. Loki’s face was full of contempt, a dark cloud covering his features. Thor could feel the icy wall growing between them, firm and unbreakable.

“You lie to me,” Loki said with an air of finality. “And you lie to yourself. That, my dear brother, is not friendship. That is not love.”

Any reply Thor might have scrapped together was lost, perished in the night. Even if he could speak, he could not reach Loki’s unhearing ears as his brother walked away, shoulders tight with tension and head hung low.

✴♔✵♔✴

Thor’s ministers stood around the table all wearing expressions with varying degrees of interest. Duke Hoder appeared worried, Duke Hermod looked smug, and Duke Tyr’s face was carefully blank.

Thor cleared his throat and began. “I believe some of you may already know why I have called this meeting today. Antoine Sturluson and his sons, Francis and Dreux, are dead.” Thor paused as his council put on their show of shock and dismay. He had little doubt that the news of their deaths had already spread throughout the palace. “What you may not know is that their deaths were not from natural sickness but from poison.”

“Another murder?” Duke Hoder gasped, hand held to his chest. “Who would do such a thing?”

“The one who administered the poison is not the problem,” Thor answered. The rumors of Marie and Godrin’s imprisonment would reach the court soon enough. Thor hardly needed to aid in their quick-fire spread. “The issue at hand is who is supplying these powders and poisons and what their overall aim is.”

Duke Hermod shifted nervously. “Could it not be just for profit? I believe—” he paused, anxiously wringing his hands together, “that is, I’ve heard around the court that such powders are very expensive.”

“I believe the motive is a bit more sinister than that,” Thor said gravely. “To poison my own nobles, in my own palace, right under my nose—that is nearly a declaration of war.”

Duke Tyr stepped forward to stand beside Thor. “We are your ready soldiers then. How can we assist you?”

“Thank you, Uncle,” Thor replied, patting the Duke on his shoulder in gratitude. “My investigation is full underway, the culprit will be found out.” He turned to the rest of the council, eyes hard and unrelenting. “However, know that no one is free of suspicion.”

“Surely your Majesty cannot believe one of us is responsible?” Duke Hoder questioned, shock writ across his face.

Thor tightened his jaw, his shoulders stiff and straight. “These days I can believe almost anything. That is all for today, you are dismissed.”

His council left the room, hushed whispers of outrage murmured between them. Thor watched with a careful eye, but was unable to discern any suspicious reactions or behavior. Only when the room was clear did he notice Heimdall, standing by the door.

“Majesty,” Heimdall said. “You should come with me.”

Thor followed Heimdall through the corridor towards the nobles’ quarters. His chest constricted in anticipation; he wasn’t sure he could cope with more news of death and deceit. They arrived outside the door of Vicomte Balder’s room.

“Surely not Balder?” Thor’s heart sank.

“His daughter,” Heimdall answered. “Come.”

Thor entered the room to find Balder’s daughter, Kelda, angrily snapping at a guard.

“I do not understand the issue.” Kelda’s face was flushed with frustration. “It is completely harmless.” She snatched at the vial in the guards hand but was roughly shoved away. “How dare you!” she growled, “Do you not know who my father is? I could have him…” her words faded as she turned to see who had entered the room. “Majesty,” she said quickly, dropping into a curtsey.

“What is all this?” Thor asked, looking between Heimdall and the guard.

“I had all the rooms searched again, including your ministers,” Heimdall said. “We found this powder hidden in Mademoiselle Kelda’s quarters.”

“It is not what you think,” Kelda said, desperately reaching for the powder again. “I can explain.”

Thor crossed his arms. “I am listening.”

“It is called the fountain of youth. It is made from powdered satyrion root from an exotic orchard, nothing like those nasty inheritance powders one often finds at court.” She paused, her cheeks turning pink. “It is meant to enhance intimacy, to excite one’s partner and bring them pleasure.” She looked towards the ground, the tips of her ears flaming red. “You know my husband William is not so young. Sometimes he needs a bit of assistance.”

Thor looked at Heimdall. “Well?”

“I have heard of such powders,” Heimdall admitted. “However, we should test it first before we make any further decisions.” He nodded to the guard who took the vial and left the room.

“That was very expensive you know!” Kelda called after him, her embarrassment from before fading and indignation taking its place.

“It is still illegal to buy and trade such powders here at court,” Heimdall reminded her. She pressed her lips tightly together but the bitterness remained in her eyes. “How about you tell us who you purchased it from?”

“I—I cannot disclose that.” She stumbled over her words as fear entered her face.

“You would withhold information, from your King?” Heimdall asked, gesturing towards Thor.

Her eyes nervously met Thor’s before she looked away. “There are certain rules one cannot break, certain codes.”

“Perhaps you will feel more talkative if we take this conversation downstairs to the dungeons.” Heimdall’s eyes flashed menancily, so sharp even Thor felt a chill go down his spine.

“Please no,” Kelda begged. She turned towards Thor. “Your Majesty, I beseech you. I truly cannot say.”

Thor stepped forward and took her hand. “Kelda, I have known you and your father for many years. He has always been a loyal minister and a good friend. I believe you when you say the powder was harmless, I do. However, there are bigger issues at play here and you must do your duty as your father has done before you. You must tell me who sold you this powder.”

“But, I—”

“You will have the crown’s protection, I promise,” Thor insisted.

“You must not reveal it was me who told you,” she said slowly, her voice quiet and anxious. She waited until Thor nodded his head before she continued, lips trembling, “It was Baron Skurge who sold it to me.”

✴♔✵♔✴

Baron Skurge was hardly a frightening man. Though his appearance was rough around the edges and his manner was oftentimes uncouth, his playful nature outweighed his gruffness. Thor, however, had no illusions of what threat might lurk beneath the surface or what desperation could lead a man to do.

That evening he was, once again, in trouble. Sweat beaded along his brow as he peered nervously at his cards. The pile of coins stacked to his right was diminishing, and quickly. Skurge never did have much skill when it came to cards or gambling, though Thor had seen him use various tricks to cheat in order to gain back his losses.

His anxious expression made much more sense when Thor came to stand beside his table and discovered who his opponent was. Skurge had no chance of succeeding with such a partner across from him.

“Brother,” Loki said, his eyes never leaving his cards. The corner of his lips twitched in a small smile, a content flush staining his cheeks. Loki always enjoyed winning at cards, even when his opponent posed little challenge. “What a surprise to find you in the salon tonight. I thought you were not fond of gambling.”

The few nobles standing inclined their head in greeting. One of the women beside Skurge perked up at the sight of Thor, her frustrated look—likely directed towards Skurge and his losses—was wiped away and replaced with an expression of pleased anticipation.

“Majesty,” Baron Skurge grunted distractedly. He chewed his lip and pushed his last few coins towards the center of the table. The lady at Skurge’s side huffed in disappointment and moved to stand next to Thor.

“Your Majesty,” she said, voice sweet as honey. “Will you play some cards with us? I would be happy to accompany you. I have been told I am something of a good luck charm.”

Loki snorted. “Is that so, Mademoiselle?” He laid his cards on the table with a satisfied smirk. “It seems you have not been much help to our dear Skurge over here.”

“I am afraid I will have to interrupt your little game,” Thor said, fighting to keep his voice steady. The vapid woman beside him seemed oblivious to the change in atmosphere. She batted her lashes and moved closer to Thor. “Baron Skurge is needed elsewhere.”

Skurge threw his cards, face down, on the table with a grimace. “All the better I suppose. I have seem to run out of coin.” He stood from his chair and turned towards Thor. “How can I be of assistance, your Majesty?”

Thor nodded towards Heimdall who moved through the crowd and came forward. He took Skurge’s arm, none too gently. “Heimdall has some questions for you. If you will follow him.”

Skurge’s eyes flashed in alarm and he struggled for a moment before giving in to Heimdall’s fierce grip. “Is this about my debts? Because I—”

“Come with me and all will become clear soon enough,” Heimdall commanded, dragging Skurge from the room. No one seemed to give him much notice, as was often the case unless he was winning. The young woman had all but forgotten him and was still looking at Thor with shining, hopeful eyes.

“Will you not sit and play?” Loki offered, his voice as mischievous as ever. “It seems Mademoiselle here would love the opportunity to be your lucky charm. She might seem a bit dull after being used so often, and by so very many, but I am certain your presence would shine her right back up.”

The young lady started in offense but Thor spoke before she could respond to Loki’s insult. “I need to talk to you.”

Loki leaned back in his chair and crossed his legs. “I am listening.”

“In private.”

“If you insist.” Loki gave a dramatic sigh of exasperation and stretched languidly, like a cat waking from a nap. “Come, we can talk in my rooms.”

They did not speak during the walk to Loki’s quarters; the resulting silence was fraught with rising tension, making the air around them thick and heavy with unspoken words. Thor’s mind swirled with uncomfortable thoughts and suspicion. Watching Baron Skurge and Loki play cards together, observing the ease in which Loki conducted himself, seeing how unaffected his brother was by the crisis surrounding the court all fed into Thor’s doubt. Was his brother honestly unconcerned about the nobles dropping like flies around him? Did he not fear for his own safety? And, most dreadful thought of all, could Loki truly have had a hand in all the recent poisonings?

He thought of Loki’s mischievous ways, his skill with alchemy, his tendency to shroud himself in mystery and never share his intentions with Thor. He recalled Loki’s dark gaze and secretive smiles, his love for frippery, the Chevalier fawning over him at his exclusive soirees. Thor’s mounting confusion and frustration crested as Loki entered his quarters and closed the door behind them. 

Thor found himself helpless as the words spilled from his mouth. “I need to know the truth, I cannot bear any more lies or deceit. What do you know of these recent poisonings?”

The color drained from Loki’s face, making his already pale skin turn ghostly white. “What exactly are you asking?”

“You know what I am asking,” Thor replied, his breath caught in his throat.

Loki’s ashen face filled with sudden color, a rising flush spreading over his cheeks. “You mean am I behind the attacks?” He spat bitterly.

“Loki,” Thor said, his voice growing soft. “I want to believe you are innocent but the evidence is against you. I can think of no one more gifted in potions and powders than you—nor are you wholly without motive. Duke Vidar offended you a day before his untimely death, I saw you attack him with my own eyes.”

Loki’s eyes flashed furiously. His chest heaved with angry, shallow breaths. “So I must be guilty then, is that it?” He paced up and down the room, his hands clenched into tight fists at his side. “Misfortune falls upon your court and the deleterious Loki is to blame?”

“You cannot deny that you have a history of creating chaos in times of peace,” Thor replied.

“Times of peace?” Loki scoffed. “Do you truly believe Asgard is entering a golden period my dear, ignorant brother? The Kingdom is drowning with debt, war is nearly upon us, and your precious nobles are at each other’s throats. Do not blame your poor leadership on me.”

Thor’s temper began to rise, blinding him in hot outrage. “You twist my words! Sly as a snake, you try to evade my questions. Mischief and tricks are one thing, Loki, but murder is entirely something else.”

“So now I am a murderer?” Loki growled, advancing on Thor. He grabbed at his shirt and tugged fiercely. Thor found himself pulled forwards. “Is that how you truly see me? I should have known you would listen to the words your pathetic friends always whisper into your ear. Simple, foolish Thor, never having a thought of his own.”

Thor grabbed Loki’s shoulders and shoved, hard. Loki stumbled backwards, his back hitting the wall behind him with a loud thud. He leaned forward, voice low and menacing. “Watch what you say. Remember you are speaking to your King.”

Loki tried to twist away but Thor shoved his knee between Loki’s legs, effectively pinning him in place. “How could I ever forget that, brother?” Loki panted, his breath coming quick. “I’m reminded every day, every moment I am trapped in your ornate prison of a palace.”

“Do you truly feel you are held captive?” Thor asked. Unconsciously his tone began to change, the deep tremble of anger distorting into something aberrant and far more dangerous. “Are you so desperate to break free?”

Loki’s pupils swelled and the rich flush returned to his face. “If I were to say yes, would you let me go?”

Arousal ignited in his stomach and spread through his limbs, his skin tingling with want. He felt dizzy; how quickly his fury morphed into pure need, drowning in a sea of want, waves of desire crashing against him. “No,” he answered on a shaky exhale. Loki’s body twitched in response, his thigh pushing against Thor’s groin. Blood rushed south and his cock began to fill. “Loki.” Thor helplessly rocked his growing erection against the firm muscle of Loki’s leg.

“Stop this,” Loki commanded, sounding rather breathless himself. His hips jerked forward, seemingly of their own accord, and Thor’s pulse stuttered as he felt Loki’s answering hardness against him.

Thor buried his face into Loki’s neck and inhaled deeply. “Brother,” he said into his warm skin.

“No!” Loki grabbed Thor’s shoulders and pushed him away. The space between them felt electric. The look in Loki’s eyes was wild, reflecting the same desire shining in Thor’s, but his mouth twisted into a sneer. “You cannot have everything you want.”

“Loki I—”

“No,” Loki repeated, voice stern. His face was once again a mask of cold ice. “You accuse me of murder and then try to have your way? You are selfish and think only of yourself, as usual. I refuse be part of it.”

Hurt and frustration bound together to create a heavy weight deep in Thor’s stomach. “You have it all wrong.” He paused, unable to admit the truth to himself, and tried to step forward but was stopped by Loki’s hand. His chest burned where Loki’s palm pressed against it. “Brother—”

“Get out,” Loki demanded between clenched teeth. “ _Leave_.”

His pride hurt, pulse still racing, and doubts continuing to cling unto his mind, Thor followed Loki’s command and departed.

✴♔✵♔✴

Thor poked morosely at his food, moving it around until the aroma of smoked meat filled his nose, but still, his appetite refused to return. He had eaten very little in the last week. Loki’s absence was a physical ache within Thor, a cavernous hole deep inside his chest. It seemed even the court was a bit muted with the prince missing; the usual revelry was toned down and his brother’s favored nobles were reduced to a miniscule huddled mass of bored faces.

After the heated argument in Loki’s quarters, his brother had left the very next morning. He hadn’t even bothered to say goodbye. Thor only learned of his departure when he went to the stables and found Loki’s favorite horse missing. The stable master informed Thor that Loki left in a hurry, off to his castle along the Gopul River. When he would return remained unclear. Thor’s stomach twisted at the thought of many more weeks or even months without his brother at his side.

He sighed despondently and pushed his plate away.

“Is the food not to your liking?” Sif asked, peering at Thor from the seat beside him.

“I am just not very hungry,” Thor replied lightly. Sif’s pointed gaze ran straight through him and he refused to meet her eyes. It was a futile defense—she always knew how to read him.

“More for us, then,” Volstagg declared, reaching over from Thor’s other side to snatch a slice of pheasant. He chewed happily, mouth open, earning a disgusted groan from Sif.

“Should we go to the Diana Salon?” Sif offered, nudging Thor with her shoulder. “A game of cards is sure to lift your spirits.”

“Hogun and Fandral are already there,” Volstagg added. “I believe Fandral is clearing Skurge of what little fortune he won the other day.”

Heimdall had thoroughly interrogated Baron Skurge but, after a few days, had no choice but to release him. He was quick to admit he had sold a few potions and powders around the court for extra coin, but insisted he was merely a messenger. He was able to give Heimdall a few names but otherwise was useless with his information. Skurge was adamant he only dabbled in pleasureable potions and refused to go near any of the dangerous sort. He asserted he had no idea who the manufacturer was. Besides various exchanging hands, apparently the powders and potions were often left in hiding places throughout the palace grounds and in the neighboring market. Releasing Skurge made the most sense, especially as it was likely he would let his guard down, assuming that he was no longer under suspicion. Heimdall was already tracking his every move.

“You are lost in thought again,” Sif teased. “Come, let us drink and play—you are sure to forget your worries.”

“If only it were that easy,” Thor murmured.

Sif placed a sympathetic hand on his shoulder. “You must take some time to enjoy the little victories. There has not been an incident in over a week.”

“That is true,” Volstagg pointed out around a mouthful of food. “Although the timing seems a bit suspect. Loki left court and suddenly there is peace—I cannot say I am surprised.”

Thor glared at Volstagg and the accusation which lay in his words. Sif, sensing Thor’s distress, cut in. “He does have a point,” she admitted, voice soft and cautious, as if she were dealing with an unpredictable animal. “But, we do not need to speak about that now,” she insisted as Thor’s glower darkened. “Come, join us in the salon.”

Thor stood, shaking his head. “Thank you for your invitation but I am going to retire for the evening.” He felt a pang of guilt at his friends’ disappointed expressions but knew he wouldn’t make for good company as he was. “Another time, perhaps. Goodnight.”

✴♔✵♔✴

Grey stone was washed in shades of violet and bronze as late afternoon faded into evening. Thor leaned against a marble bench and watched as shadows grew in the private courtyard. He relished the momentary solitude. Most of the day had been spent meeting with his ministers and preparing for what now seemed to be an inevitable war. With no new murders, and the court in relative peace, Thor found his concerns shifting wholeheartedly to the disputes with Jotunheim.

Ever since Thor was a boy, there had never been a time when true peace existed between their kingdoms. He knew much about his father’s own struggles during his reign and how difficult it was to procure the meeting for a tentative peace treaty. While Thor could not deny he felt most at home on the field, revelling in glory of victorious battles, he felt a tendril of shame that his father’s hard work was coming to waste.

Thor’s head throbbed and he pressed his fingers against his temples in order to massage away the pain. There was no point in overthinking what could not be avoided. He had left the meeting mentally exhausted and was happy to have his uncle, Tyr, remain to conclude the final, minor details. Normally he would turn to Loki when his troubles overwhelmed him and, though his brother’s advice was usually intermixed with a tirade on how foolish and ill-equipped Thor was, he found himself missing his brother’s harsh words.

Loki had left in the past, sometimes for state duty and other times as a result of a dispute between himself and others at court—usually Thor himself—but this time felt different. Thor’s body ached with despair over his brother’s absence, the longing so fierce he found sleep evaded him.

A gentle breeze swept over the courtyard, carrying the scent of daffodils in its wake. Thor inhaled deeply, willing the floral sweetness to calm his nerves. Insects buzzed near the vibrant flowers, a placid lullaby, but Thor felt more restless than ever. Thinking of Loki often made him feel antsy and prickly, as if his skin was stretched too thin over his bones; an ill-fitting costume that barely concealed his restive feelings.

“Your Majesty.” Thor started as a figure appeared, a young noblewoman who was once his mother’s lady in waiting. She inclined her head and lifted it slowly, plump lips spreading into a smile to reveal pearly teeth. Despite her pretty face and benign expression, Thor felt she had the appearance of a fox stalking its prey. “I am sorry to disturb you. I did not realize you were here.”

Thor waved his hand at her apologies. “It is no problem at all,” he assured her. “Mademoiselle…”

“Brigitte,” she offered, her smile growing. “I am surprised to find you all alone. Usually you are surrounded by so many people it is difficult to catch your attention.” She flushed a pretty shade of pink. “Not to say that I have your attention now, that is.”

“I see,” Thor hummed, heedful. A year ago he would have smirked and invited her to sit beside him. She was attractive and bedding her would be an easy conquest. Today, however… “I was just sitting here thinking. I prefer the solitude.” 

He waited for Brigitte to take the hint but she remained willfully ignorant. Instead, she moved closer and placed her hand on Thor’s arm. “You do seem rather disturbed, your Majesty. Perhaps I can provide a suitable distraction for you.”

“That will not be necessary,” he replied, promptly removing her hand and standing. “I was on my way back to my quarters—” he paused at the brazen look of hope on her face but pressed on, “—alone.” Her eyes flooded with disappointment and her lips dipped into a pout, but Thor found he was not moved by the display. “However,” he added, in a kinder tone, “please do enjoy the gardens.”

Thor gestured to the bench he had just been sitting on. She stared at the marble as if it were some foreign, offensive thing before quickly smoothing her expression and lowering her head. He did not remain any longer to see if she chose to stay, but promptly turned and followed the winding path back to the palace.

✴♔✵♔✴

Thor always had an affinity for the opulent, especially when it came to his personal quarters. Who would expect differently from a King, especially the ruler of Asgard, one of the richest kingdoms in all the world? When he first ascended the throne, still a young man, he poured his efforts into transforming the palace into a lavish and remarkable place where one would need only lay their eyes on his grand gardens and sumptuous rooms to understand the true power his reign held.

As evening drifted into his room and flickering candlelight shone against the woven golden tapestry of his canopy, however, Thor couldn’t help but feel a bit foolish. He may reside in the most resplendent palace, own the strongest horses, have the bravest knights, but his heart remained shuttered closed to true happiness. How could Thor feel any honest joy when the most precious gem of all was missing?

He felt a stirring of guilt to think of his brother as a possession but even as a boy, with the finest tutors and most admirable playmates, he always prefered Loki’s company and felt certain that Loki was his and no one else’s.

Their _unnatural bond_ , as his father liked to call it, was what kept him going as a child and what grounded him as he grew into a young man, unsure if he could bear the weight of the kingdom himself. There was no real fear to be had if Loki was by his side.

Thor sighed and stared at the luxurious fabric hanging above his bed, the stitches of gold and silver entwined into the dark blue velvet. The design reminded Thor of the night sky, shooting stars racing across a dark expanse—the uncertain and mysterious universe. What was Loki doing at that very moment? Was he laying in bed himself? Did Thor occupy even a small part of his mind?

He wondered exactly the moment things had changed between them; when did childhood affection turn into rising rivalry? When did Loki’s easy smiles transform into quick frowns, friendly teasing into icy words of scorn, a freely shared mind into a locked chest of secrets?

Thor turned onto his side and squeezed his eyes shut, willing sleep to come. He couldn’t bear another restless night with his mind full of troubling thoughts and questions that had no answers. He almost considered if he should have taken the young lady from earlier up on her offer. It would not be the first time to tumble into bed with a fair woman he hardly knew. She was pleasing enough, auburn hair and creamy skin broken only with a light scattering of freckles. Her eyes, Thor admitted to himself, were by far her best feature. Deep green, like shining emeralds, precious jewels that raked over him with desire.

Thor felt a frisson of arousal low in his gut, spreading through his stomach and settling into his skin. His cock twitched in interest and he lazily palmed it, pressing into the hardening flesh. He imagined her pink lips opening and a hot, wet mouth enveloping his length. Thor’s hand curled around his growing erection and he gave it a few pumps as it began to fill. He imagined those striking eyes peering up at him, looking for approval. He would run his fingers through her glossy hair, silky and soft to touch, encouraging her silently as he rocked into her mouth.

Thor shuddered as he stroked his cock faster, his fingers tightening harder around his hot flesh. Her gaze narrowed in his mind, a glint of mischief filling her pretty green eyes. The hair in his hand darkened, turning from reddish brown to an inky black. Her jaw became bolder, more pronounced, her cheekbones sharp enough to cut glass. A pulse of pre-come spilled from the tip of Thor’s aching cock.

_Loki._

Lazy arousal turned into hot desire, flames of want licking their way up Thor’s spine. He imagined Loki on his knees, all trussed up in his flashy clothing, black lace cuffs brushing against Thor’s groin as his brother held the base of his cock while sucking on the swollen head. There would be nothing gentle about Loki’s grasp, nothing tender in the way his tongue would lick along the length. He would be brutal, unforgiving, sucking Thor’s orgasm from him as if it were the first attack in a battle Loki knew he was destined to win. 

Thor pictured Loki’s hollowed cheeks, stained pink with effort, his full lips and clever tongue, those compelling eyes watching him beneath thick, dark lashes.

“Brother!” The words spilled from Thor’s mouth, helpless and inevitable, much like the warm seed which dripped over his knuckles in long, sticky pulses.

He opened his eyes slowly, his heart racing and cock still throbbing with residual sensation. He had barely finished haphazardly cleaning himself off when a shimmer of light caught his attention. The golden design on his canopy twinkled and glimmered, seemingly mocking him with its shining brilliance. A garish show of wealth and power with no true substance behind it.

Thor shut his eyes against it.

✴♔✵♔✴

“You know,” Princess Darcy said, peering into her glass, “I must say I am impressed with Asgardian wine. Much fruitier than the spirits we serve on Midgard, but sweetness is hardly something to complain about.”

“I am glad you enjoy it,” Thor replied with a grin.

His good mood couldn’t be helped. It was always exciting when an ambassador from an allied kingdom came to visit and Thor had taken quite a liking to the princess who represented Midgard. She was young but competent, full of spirit and had a wonderful sense of humor. Volstagg was rather taken, himself. He followed her around like a puppy. Thor was surprised his friend hadn’t started whining for her attention.

The true reason, however, for the smile which refused to leave Thor’s face was not due to a witty princess, fine wine, or jubilant festivities. As stubborn as Loki was, he also knew it was impossible to refuse attending the welcoming feast for an allied ambassador. It was far too important for the kingdom and, in spite of everything, Thor was certain his brother did care for Asgard.

His heart warmed to have his brother once again within the walls of the palace. Loki’s initial refusal to reply to Thor’s summons, and even the surly expression he wore at the moment, did little to detract the cautious happiness blooming in Thor’s chest.

Their eyes met often throughout the night and the room came to a standstill everytime they did. Loki’s face remained unreadable, his gaze like ice before he looked away. Thor would try to make his way through the mass of nobles and emissaries from smaller, neighboring kingdoms, attempt to bridge the gap between them, but Loki was as slippery as an eel. He remained in dark corners, always at the edge of the room, constantly out of reach.

His desire to speak with Loki, to explain what lay in his heart, burned through him as the night wore on. Occasionally he would catch a glimpse of his brother doing his duty, as he must, and entertaining a few visiting nobles from Midgard’s court. In those moments Loki shined. He effortlessly charmed those around him with his clever words and seductive smile. Thor watched him closely, lungs burning with longing with every measured breath. Loki seemed to glow from within, a shining star exuding brilliant light, attracting people like a moth to a flame. 

Yet still, he remained untouchable; faraway as the cosmos, out of orbit, an unreachable, heavenly body.

The festivities continued late into the night, long after Thor bid farewell to Princess Darcy for the evening. Finally free of his kingly obligations, he sought out his brother, but discovered Loki was nowhere to be found. At some point, he must have snuck out and withdrew without catching Thor’s attention. With a heavy heart, Thor admitted defeat and retired to his quarters.

The walk to his room was halted several times by amiable friends, excitable nobles, and lost, drunken guests. Music played in numerous entertaining salons and their melodies spilled out into the corridors. The faint echoes still reverberated in Thor’s ears as he finally arrived to his private rooms. Weighed down with fatigue and growing disappointment, he almost didn’t realize he wasn’t alone.

“Loki!” Thor exclaimed in surprise. “What are you doing here?”

His brother was perched on the edge of Thor’s bed, his elegant fingers tracing patterns into the woven cloth resting over his pillow. He looked up at Thor’s arrival, his expression sober. “We need to talk.”

“Yes, we do.” Thor allowed himself a small smile and stepped closer. “Brother, there is much I—”

“No,” Loki interrupted holding up his hand. “You have to stop.”

Thor paused in his approach, brow furrowing in confusion. “I do not understand.”

“Yes, you do,” Loki hissed, jumping off the bed. “This is madness, and I won’t allow it to continue any longer.” He paced back and forth, hands clenched at his side. Thor watched uselessly in growing apprehension. “At first I thought it was a game. I found myself amused by your longing stares and lingering touches, but it has grown out of hand.”

A lump formed in Thor’s throat, nearly blocking the words he spoke. “Loki.” His brother needed to know how he felt, consequences be damned. Steeling his nerves, he continued, “I will not deny my feelings any longer.”

“Well, you must,” Loki insisted, stopping in his tracks to turn towards Thor. “We are not children anymore exchanging stolen kisses in the garden. We are brothers, it is—” he faltered, eyes cast down as his voice softened, “—it is not right. You are confused is all, craving a distraction to the current mayhem at court, using this unnatural attraction as an escape.”

“You are wrong,” Thor retorted, face heating in dismay. “I would never use you. Do not presume to know the contents of my heart.”

Loki’s expression darkened and he stepped forward. “I presume because I know you, brother. I know you better than anyone. I know how you aspire to make history as a great king and your fear that you will never succeed as our ancestors before us. I know how dearly you long to have faith in those around you, often resulting in misplaced loyalties and broken trust. I know all about your desires, your barely restrained wants, the need to claim what is before you, especially if it is forbidden.” He held himself very still as he said the next words, “But, my dear brother, you are fickle at heart, changeable in your policies, capricious in your fervor. This will pass, your confounding feelings will fade.”

“No,” Thor denied, anger and frustration coloring his voice. He was surprised at the troubled tone of Loki’s voice, befuddled by the fear-laced hurt in his eyes. Could his brother truly think his desire was merely a passing fancy? Thor refused to let that stand. He closed the space between them and grasped Loki’s shoulders. “You say you know me so well, then look into my eyes and see the truth. I love you, I want _you_!” He took a calming breath, peering earnestly into Loki’s hesitant gaze. “I have desired you for as long as I can remember.”

“Thor,” Loki begged, the disdain from earlier leaving his voice, replaced with growing panic. “You do not know what you are saying.”

Thor shook his head in denial, his grip tightening on Loki’s arms. “I know exactly what I say, brother.” His voice was firm, certain. He longed to break through the shield of doubts and fear that surrounded Loki. He could already discern the small cracks forming along the edges. It took all his strength to not simply crash through and shatter them. “I do not wish to bed you as a simple conquest, I do not want to satiate a curious desire. You are always in my thoughts, forever embedded in my heart.”

Loki trembled beneath his hands, gaze firmly fixed to the floor. His dark lashes became thick and wet with unshed tears. Thor watched the unsteady rise and fall of his chest, the shuddering breaths that escaped from his parted lips. He released one of Loki’s arms and raised his hand to rest on Loki’s jaw. He gently lifted his chin, forcing his brother to meet his gaze. Loki’s eyes shimmered like dew on blades of grass—wet, delicate, fragile. His expression was open and vulnerable and Thor felt it sink into his chest like a dagger thrust into his heart. Loki shook his head, as if denying the words even as they left his mouth. “When you speak to me like that I cannot think, cannot reason nor comprehend—”

“Do not think,” Thor commanded gently. “Just feel.” He leaned forward to rest his forehead against Loki’s. “Do you remember when we were children? When we used to run through the orchards together and climb the tallest trees we could find?” Loki nodded his head, his nose brushing against Thor’s cheek. “One day you reached the very top, further than I had ever dared to venture. I was green with envy and wanted to race up that very tree and overtake you. That was when the branch creaked, snapped and gave way. You fell from such a height, the wind knocked straight from your lungs.” Thor paused and slid his other hand up Loki’s arm to rest along his slender neck. “I ran to your side, terrified I had lost you and that the last thought I ever had was one of malice. When you opened your eyes again, no worse for wear than a few bruises and aches, I was overcome with relief.”

“Thor—”

“I knew then,” Thor continued on a shaky exhale. “I knew then I could never bear to have you leave me, that I must always have you at my side.” His thumb began to trace patterns along Loki’s throat. “I cannot say for sure when my brotherly love turned into something more, when my desire for your attention and affection became a hunger for your touch, your kiss, your heart.” Loki’s gaze lifted, eyes glassy and shining as they met Thor’s. “I think perhaps it existed all along, a seed deeply planted in my heart that has bloomed and grown more with every passing year.”

“Please,” Loki begged, though it was unclear if he was asking for Thor to stop or continue. He appeared to unconsciously lean into Thor’s embrace. “This is wrong,” he whispered in the closing space between them. He seemed to be talking more to himself than to Thor.

“I do not care,” Thor replied and he found he didn’t. He couldn’t care less about any of the moral implications of his feelings nor the repercussions of his actions. All he could see was Loki, all he could feel was the years of pent up desire and repressed emotions rising to the surface. “Look at me,” he commanded. “Tell me you do not feel it too and I will leave you alone. I will keep my distance and never speak of this again.”

Thor held his breath as he waited for Loki’s reply. His brother stood just as still, as if any movement might be seen as a concession. His eyes were locked on Thor’s, so close that he could see the flecks of gold in his brother’s vibrant irises. His expression was tight, unmoveable except for a minute twitch in his jaw. The room seemed to be achingly silent, the music and revelry from earlier all a distant memory. He could hear the painful thudding of his heart against his chest.

Loki’s answer was in a kiss, so soft and chaste Thor was certain he must have imagined it. Loki’s lips were feather light against his, a mere brush and suggestion. Loki pulled away, eyes dark and luminous in the low light of the room. He looked surprised at his own actions, his skittish expression resembling a small animal contemplating its escape.

Thor refused to let him go.

His fingers tangled into Loki’s hair, tugging him closer until he fell against Thor’s body. Loki’s lithe frame was warm and welcome. A shuddering breath escaped Thor’s mouth as their lips met again, his pulse racing at having the object of his desire finally in his arms. 

Their tongues had only just touched, a meeting of wet, desirous heat, when Loki pulled away with a start.

“We can’t,” he whispered, chest heaving with unsteady breaths. His eyes were wild with fear, his body tense with restraint. His cheeks were still flushed with fervor, pupils swollen, lips quivering with suppressed desire. Thor could see the internal battle as it played out on Loki’s face, how badly he wanted this and how fiercely he was forcing himself to refuse it.

Thor reached out uselessly as Loki took a step back. “Brother…”

Loki shook his head, dark hair falling over his face. He pushed past Thor and, without a single glance back, raced out of the room.

✴♔✵♔✴

✴♔✵♔✴

Thor stood frozen to the spot, his eyes fixed on the door Loki had fled through. Desire, disquiet, and despair ran through his veins, flooding his bloodstream until he was drowning in his own uncertainty.

His raised his hand and ran his fingers across his lips. He could still feel the ghost of his brother’s kiss against his mouth. It seemed impossible that mere minutes ago he’d held Loki in his arms, confessed his very heart and soul, and felt the tendrils of reciprocation in the quiet, tender space between them.

Thor’s feet moved of their own accord, rushing towards the door before his mind was fully made up. Instinctually his body knew the answer, his heart was entirely set. The corridors were empty as he hurried through them, the silence within them a fierce contrast the the sound of his wildly beating heart.

When he finally made it to Loki’s quarters, there was no hesitation. He swiftly opened the door and pushed his way inside.

His brother stood in the middle of his room, seemingly in as much of a daze as Thor was just moments before. He didn’t even start when Thor entered; merely continued to gaze off dreamily into space. His fingertips rested on his lips, tracing the places where their mouths had met before. Thor felt a throb of longing at the sight, a striking desire to replace Loki’s fingers with his own, to touch every single inch of skin on his brother’s waiting body.

“Loki,” Thor said softly into the night.

His brother did turn then, slowly focusing his eyes to settle on Thor. He did not appear startled or angry at the disturbance. There was still a wariness in his posture, as if he was holding himself together with careful control, but Thor’s arrival did not seem to be a surprise.

“This is a terrible idea,” Loki warned. There was little heat to his words, he hardly seemed convinced of them himself. “We should end this before we go too far.”

Thor shook his head and stepped closer. “I’m already too far gone, it is too late for me.”

Loki laughed sadly at that, his lips curling wryly. His expression was both heartbreaking and beautiful and Thor was helpless but to move closer. He was mere inches away when Loki held out his hand. His palm rested lightly against Thor’s chest, keeping him from reaching his goal.

“Why are you doing this?” Loki demanded, voice tight and quiet. “I have no defence against this, against you.”

“I want you,” Thor answered honestly. “I need you.” He leaned his head closer, aching to kiss his brother once more, but Loki kept him in place. “I _love_ you.”

“Love?” Loki muttered with bitter disbelief. “Do you love me as you love your lavish gardens, your opulent palace? Tell me, dear brother, do you cherish me as you do one of your many treasures? Will you use me for the night, perhaps for a few weeks, satisfy your desire and then lock me away in a vault until you are in the mood to play with me again?”

“Never!” Thor protested, sick even at the thought. “You are precious to me, not as a shining jewel or as a simple conquest, but as the person I adore more than anything and anyone in the entire universe.” 

Thor knew from the moment Loki was born how special his brother was, how much he adored and cherished him. In the many years that followed, his feelings had only grown; intensified to the point of a burning desire that would not let him rest. He felt an inkling of guilt at Loki’s words, though, to realize he had never fully considered Loki’s feelings on the matter, that he hadn’t stopped to truly wonder what this might mean to his brother.

“I will not be cast aside,” Loki commanded, eyes dark and searching. His hand against Thor’s chest curled into a fist, the fabric of his vest twisting tightly in his fingers. “I will not be discarded like all the others. I cannot—” Loki faltered, his voice cracking as he spoke. Thor was so used to seeing his brother strong of mind and sharp-tongued; this fragile vulnerability felt brand new and achingly precious. Thor desired above all things to protect it. “I will not survive it if you—”

“Brother.” Thor placed his hand between them, over Loki’s tightly clenched fist. “I would never hurt you this way,” he insisted. Thor slowly lowered their hands away from his chest to rest along their sides. His grip remained firm on Loki’s wrist, thumb rubbing soft circles along his flickering pulse. “You are the only one for me, the only one I shall ever truly desire.” He took a shaky breath and, though having Loki walk away would likely destroy him, he offered his brother an easy escape. “If you do not feel the same I will not force this upon you.” He swallowed roughly and repeated his promise from earlier, “I will leave if you command me. We can pretend this night never happ—”

Loki moved fast, hands tangling into Thor’s hair, pulling his brother closer, stumbling backwards until his back met the wall. Thor followed willingly, pressing his weight against Loki’s chest, meeting Loki’s hot mouth in a searing kiss, halting any further words between them. Thor positively melted into the embrace. His lips parted readily to Loki’s searching tongue, allowing his brother to explore and ravish him as he pleased. Loki’s mouth was all wet heat and Thor drowned in the sensation.

Loki pulled back for air but kept his forehead pressed against Thor’s. “You are an idiot,” he panted in the humid air between them. Thor started, ready to defend himself but Loki pressed on. “The biggest fool I have ever known. How could you even doubt that I do not want you, that I do not feel the same?” Thor had several answers to that, from Loki’s hot and cold temperate to his oftentimes disdainful demeanor—he wisely kept his mouth shut. Loki leaned in kissed him again, open-mouthed and needy. “I used to stay up late at night and think of you,” Loki murmured against Thor’s lips. “I was always aching after our little games together. I wanted you so badly it hurt, but I could not trust you, could not even trust myself with those feelings. I would lay in bed and stroke myself instead, slip slick fingers deep inside me and pretend it was you.”

“Loki,” Thor pleaded though he was hardly certain what exactly he was begging for. More of Loki’s enticing words? More of his brother’s hot mouth against his own? He felt dizzy at Loki’s confession; at the knowledge that they could have been together like this long ago. So much wasted time, Thor couldn’t bear to squander anymore. “I would have you, if you would let me.”

Loki’s lips curled into a wanton smirk. His bit the bottom of his lip, a peek of his hot tongue revealed behind his sharp teeth. Thor’s cock pulsed at the sight. “Take me.”

Thor felt a wave of heat sweep over his body. Loki’s words were the same as the vivid dream he had not long ago. But this was no longer a dream, no longer a fantasy—his brother was standing before him, all real flesh and blood and reciprocated passion. 

Thor’s pulse increased tenfold. He was no stranger to the desires of the flesh. He had numerous partners from a young age, some brief dalliances and some longer, passionate affairs. He was well versed in coupling and confident in his skills as a lover. And yet…

“Tell me what you want,” Thor’s voice shook as he spoke, matching the tremor in his hands as he undid the intricate buttons of Loki’s clothing. He felt as green as ever, as if it were the first time he was tumbling into bed with someone. “Tell me what you need.”

Loki titled his head back, exposing his neck for the taking. Thor’s mouth latched onto a spot beneath his jaw, biting at the tender flesh before soothing the rough action with his tongue. “Do you really need instruction?” Loki’s teasing tone belied the trembling of his body and the soft moans which escaped his mouth when Thor continued to scrape his teeth along his throat.

“I want it to feel good for you,” Thor replied. “I want—”

Thor’s words were lost as he finally pushed Loki’s waistcoat and undershirt away, revealing his bared chest. The night was clear and the moon shone brightly, silvery light streaming in through the window to fall across Loki’s pale flesh. His skin seemed to glow in the moonlight, a pearlescent tint spread across his stomach. 

Thor could not have him close enough. His hands gripped onto either side of Loki’s hips and pulled him forward. Loki’s resulting laugh soon faded into a needy groan as Thor’s hot mouth latched onto one of his nipples. He flicked his tongue against the pebbled flesh until Loki started to squirm before beginning his work on the next one.

Loki’s hands fell upon Thor’s head, weaving his fingers into his golden hair. He pulled, hard. The flash of pain broke his focus, his cock throbbing in his pants at the sharp sensation.

“Thor,” Loki panted, his chest heaving with his desperate breaths. All hesitation from before was gone, shattered in the face of their mutual need. “Stop teasing.”

Thor slowly sunk to his knees. “You still have not told me what you want, brother,” he replied, his lips brushing against Loki’s stomach as he spoke.

Loki shifted his hips, rocking up so that his growing erection rubbed against Thor’s chin. Thor could already feel the sticky wetness beading at the tip even through the thin layer of Loki’s leggings. He leaned down and sucked at the head, making the material even more damp as he drew out a pulse of pre-come from Loki’s cock.

“Thor,” he whined, bucking forward against his will. “Please.”

Thor’s pulse quickened and he did his best to hide the smile creeping on his face. Loki was already a wreck, rock-hard and begging. He wanted to relish in the feeling, to draw this out all night, to have Loki trembling on hands and knees and pleading to be filled. Fortunately for his brother, Thor lacked the patience.

“Shh,” he hushed Loki. He tugged at Loki’s leggings, pulling them down to pool around his feet. The fabric caught on his shoes and Thor carefully removed them, fingers slipping behind his heel, skating reverently along the arch of his foot. He placed the ornate shoes behind him, ignoring the needy and impatient noise that fell from Loki’s lips. “Do not worry, little brother,” Thor soothed him. “I will take care of you, I always do, do I not?”

Loki’s cock twitched at the words, more seed gathering at the slit. His brother had a beautiful cock; long and slender, rosy with excitement. Thor longed to worship it, but he reigned in his self-control and only allowed himself to press a swift kiss to the swollen head. He lifted his gaze, meeting Loki’s lust-addled expression as he watched events unfold, mouth parted and cheeks flaming red with desire. He could see the battle taking place on Loki’s face, the apparent need to be in control fighting with the desire to let go.

“Well?” Loki asked haughtily, his rough tone struggling to cover the hunger in his voice. “Are you going to get on with it or not?”

Thor merely grinned in reply and, instead of taking his brother into his mouth, spun him around to face the wall. Loki gasped in surprise and his hands instinctively reached out to brace himself, causing his back to curve in a beautiful line. So much splendid, smooth flesh on display. Loki looked as if he was made of marble in the low light of the room; his skin’s cold appearance all a mask for the heat that lay beneath. Thor reached up to glide his hands down Loki’s back, thumb tracing the line of his spine, until they finally reached his desired destination. He gripped the perky globes of Loki’s ass and pulled them apart to reveal his perfect, tight hole.

“You are so beautiful,” Thor said, voice husky with want. “Such an exquisite specimen.”

Loki squirmed in his grasp. “Thor, what are you—” Thor leaned in and flicked his tongue against his hole. “Fuck I—” He licked again and then again, tracing patterns along the quivering rim. “Yes! Keep...just—” Loki continued to babble nonsense until soon he was just forming noises instead of words. He pushed back against Thor, crying out when Thor pressed the tip of his tongue inside his inviting hole. 

Thor pulled back, admiring his work. Loki’s hole was glistening wet, his long legs trembling, his head bowed. His brother’s untouched cock was heavy with arousal, clearly unsated with the minute thrusts Loki was attempting against the wall in front of him. Thor’s own erection was begging for attention and he couldn’t resist pressing his palm against his groin to relieve the pressure. It wasn’t enough. He undid the laces to his own breeches and pulled out his cock, groaning happily as his hand wrapped around the throbbing girth.

“Will you just,” Loki hissed, squirming for Thor’s touch, “hurry up and fuck me already.”

Thor’s cock throbbed in agreement. “So impatient,” Thor scolded though he was quickly losing the thread of the story. He couldn’t bear to wait much longer, could hardly pretend he was truly the one in control. “But you need to be ready, brother.” Thor’s hand continued to stroke his own cock, feeling the enormous length and massive thickness. His brother’s hole was wet and relaxed, but still so very tight. He leaned forward again, tongue flicking against the quivering rim. Loki moaned, hips jerking forward. A long, thin strand of pre-come spilled from the swollen head of Loki’s cock. Thor watched it drip onto the ground with hungry eyes. He swallowed past the tightness in his throat, his voice lined with gravel. “I do not want to hurt you.”

Loki spun around, his stiff cock bouncing against the flat of his stomach. His eyes were dark, pupils blown wide with arousal. “What if I want you to?”

Thor’s last tendril of control snapped and he lifted Loki into his arms, ignoring the yelp of surprise and carrying him to the bed. When he threw his brother down, Loki didn’t hesitate. He quickly climbed on all fours, gorgeous long limbs and tempting ass on display. Thor tore off his own clothing in a hurry, mindless to the sound of tearing fabric and buttons bouncing on the floor. He scrambled to Loki’s bedside table, carelessly knocking over empty cups and expensive trinkets in his search. It had been some time since Thor had been to Loki’s rooms but he was surprised to discover not much had changed. He still decorated his room with dark oak and green silk, thick woven tapestries adorning the walls. Books of various thickness filled the drawers, something Thor had once found endearing but in the heat of the current moment found frustrating beyond belief. He huffed with impatience as he moved the bound pages aside.

“Need some help?” Loki teased, though the effect was ruined by the need in his voice.

“Oil,” Thor grunted in reply, frustration and want seeping into his bloodstream.

Thor could see Loki from the corner of his eye, still perched on the bed, hand slowly pumping his needy erection. “Bottom drawer, left corner,” he directed on a breathy exhale.

Thor’s hand closed around the bottle and he grinned in triumph as he pulled it free. He tugged the topper off the oil, tossed it across the room and poured a generous amount into his hand, excess spilling onto the bedspread. His slick palm cupped his brother’s ass, finger circling his hole in wet, urgent circles.

“Do it,” Loki commanded, pressing back into Thor’s touch.

Thor didn’t have to be told twice. He worked his finger in, groaning at the tight, hot pressure inside. Loki’s body tensed for a moment, but after a few, steady breaths he could feel his brother relax and give in to the sensation. He moved his finger slowly, stretching him with tentative care. The feel of Loki gripped so intimately around him was mesmerizing. The thought of his cock replacing his finger—of pushing inside that tight heat—felt near enough to send him over the edge. His erection was already painfully hard, a steady stream of pre-come flowing from his slit.

“Come now, brother.” Loki rocked against him, meeting his steady thrusts. “Give me more, I can take it. I will not break.”

Who was Thor to deny him? He added another finger, slowing fucking him in and out. Loki mewled in delight when his fingertips brushed against the bundle of nerves inside. 

“Do you like that?” Thor teased, repeating the action again and again. Loki nodded in agreement, coherent words long gone for him. Thor had hardly slipped in a third finger before Loki began to sob with need. 

“Now,” Loki finally managed to croak. “Thor, I’m ready. _Please!_ ”

“You are exquisite.” Thor’s heart felt on the verge of bursting, his cock so hard it nearly hurt, his head spinning with desire and affection and pure, fiery hunger. He grabbed at the bottle of oil, clumsily pouring more into his hand before slicking his cock. It took a great amount of self-control to not continue stroking. The slippery pressure was incredible but Thor knew it could never compare to his brother’s inviting heat. He smoothed a comforting hand over Loki’s back before lining himself up and pushing inside.

Inch by inch Loki’s greedy hole swallowed him up. It was so much tighter, hotter, more intense than anything Thor had experienced before. He could feel every part of Loki, every shudder and tremble, every shaky breath he took. Connected like this, Thor felt as if they shared one body, one mind. With one final push, he was fully seated. He didn’t move at first, allowing Loki to adjust and, further, allowing himself to return to earth. The blazing pressure was all consuming and Thor’s cock pulsed, his balls drawn up, right and ready for release. He took a steadying breath and willed his approaching orgasm away. He wasn’t ready for it to be over so very soon. 

“Fuck,” Loki whispered, his cheek pressed to the mattress. “You are so ridiculously big. Why are you so enormous _everywhere_?”

Thor smiled and leaned forward to press his chest against Loki’s back. Loki cried out at the slight movement. “Are you okay? Should I continue?”

Loki bit his lip. “If you do not start moving, I will kill you,” he answered with a strained voice.

Thor pulled out nearly all the way until just the tip of his cock stretched Loki’s rim. “If I am dead, who will you get to fuck you like this?” Thor pushed forward, pressing himself all the way back in with one, brutal thrust.

Loki’s strangled response was all pleasurable groans. His hands grappled at the sheets, grasping the fabric between curled fists. “More,” he begged, voice no louder than a whisper.

“As you wish,” Thor said as he thrust in again and again.

He tried to keep a steady pace, to angle himself perfectly each time for Loki’s pleasure, but soon he was lost to his own, unable to maintain any kind of rhythm. His brother hardly seemed to care; he was a sobbing mess, face pressed into the mattress as he rocked back into each one of Thor’s desperate thrusts.

“I cannot—” Loki whined. “I need to—”

Thor reached his arm around and gripped Loki’s leaking erection. “Go ahead,” he said, pumping Loki’s cock in time with his thrusts. “Come for me, brother.”

The sounds escaping Loki’s throat were near anguished, as if he was truly falling apart. Thor knew the feeling; he was barely holding himself together as it was. He stroked faster, harder and then he felt it, the warm sticky slide of his brother’s release dripping over his knuckles. Loki’s body trembled, his ass clenching and Thor was gone. The extra pressure was too much. He followed his brother, orgasm torn from him in pulse after demanding pulse. He fucked his way through it, hand still gripping Loki’s spent cock, spilling every last drop deep inside his brother.

When the haze finally cleared, Thor felt utterly boneless. Every last bit of energy was sapped from him and he was helpless but to collapse on top of Loki’s back. His brother struggled for a few moments before sighing and admitting defeat. He seemed just as exhausted as Thor. His dark lashes fluttered closed and his lips parted softly as he regained his breath. Thor pressed tired kisses to his smooth shoulder, his hand stroking the dark hair strewn across the bed.

“That better be your clean hand,” Loki complained, fatigue evident in his voice. “I refuse to clean come out of my hair, even if it is my own.”

Thor chuckled into Loki’s skin. Drained as he was, as they both were, the stickiness between their bodies would only grow and become undeniably uncomfortable. With effort, Thor pushed himself up and slowly separated from Loki’s body. Loki moaned at the sensation and Thor’s spent cock twitched as it slipped out of his brother. 

Thor longed to call for one his servants, to have them bring some wine and draw a bath for he and Loki to sink into. He couldn’t even begin to imagine the scandal, though, and how quickly the shocked rumors would spread amongst the palace. Instead, Thor forced himself to his feet, searching until he found the ruined ripped remnants of his shirt and dipped it into a pitcher near the bed.

Loki had propped himself onto his side and was watching Thor with amused eyes. He seemed genuinely surprised when Thor settled himself back onto the bed and began to clean him off. Thor wiped the cloth over Loki’s stomach, his softening cock, between his thighs. Loki watched in silence, a faint flush blooming on his cheeks.

Thor redipped the cloth inside the pitcher before cleaning himself off, quickly and efficiently, with far less care than he did with his brother.

Loki raised a concerned brow. “I hope that was not my drinking water.”

Thor laughed and leaned over to blow out the candles. He climbed into bed, blindly reaching out to wrap his arms around Loki. His brother huffed in feigned distaste before settling against his body. “Go to sleep,” Thor murmured into his ear.

For once in his life, Loki obeyed his brother’s command without a complaint. Moments later, Thor could feel the settled, slow rise and fall of his brother’s chest against his arms. He matched Loki’s steady breath and followed him into sleep.

✴♔✵♔✴

Thor woke with the sun, beams of light streaming through the thick glass of the windows. Golden rays fell upon the bed, casting lines of light along the emerald green bedspread. The entire room seemed to glow from within, dusty pink and blooming bronze spreading into the dark corners, chasing away the lingering shadows. Motes of dust danced upon the air. The particles appeared transfixed in time as if even they did not dare to disturb the King’s peace.

Loki stirred next to Thor, his dark lashes fluttering as his eyes slowly opened. Thor felt a brief stab of disappointment; he wanted to observe his brother sleeping for a few moments more. Any regret quickly dissipated, however, when Loki stretched languidly on the bed, arching his back and allowing the covers to slip from his hip. Thor drank in the sight of his pale flesh on display and the way the morning light illuminated his creamy skin. Loki blinked his eyes fully open and let out a small sound as he continued to stretch. His brow furrowed with a brief flash of discomfort.

“Sore?” Thor asked, unable to hide the smile spreading across his face.

“Hardly,” Loki scoffed, the corners of his lips tugging upwards.

Thor’s grin widened and he reached out to tangle his fingers into Loki’s raven hair. “Good morning,” he said softly.

“Morning,” Loki murmured in reply, shutting his eyes and leaning into Thor’s touch.

The rosy glow of early light seeped into Loki’s skin, matching the faint flush upon his cheeks. Overcome, and unable to do anything else, Thor pressed his lips to Loki’s. The kiss began innocent and sweet enough but soon gentle nips and searching tongues became involved. Thor could feel arousal stirring in his stomach as his lazy morning erection grew to full attention. He could hardly stop himself from rocking onto Loki’s thigh.

“You are insatiable,” Loki remarked, leaning back slightly. His words were belied by his own growing hardness Thor could feel pressed against his hip.

Thor buried his head into Loki’s silky hair and spoke into the dark locks. “Is that a complaint?” 

“No,” Loki replied breathily. Thor lightly bit the lobe of Loki’s ear before moving his way towards Loki’s jaw. He kissed hungrily at his throat, scraping his teeth against the delicate skin there. “I am just not certain I am in a state to go again, after last night.”

Thor pulled back, a triumphant gleam in his eyes. “But I thought you were not sore?” He shifted against Loki, the full length of his cock sliding next to Loki’s erection. 

“Please,” Loki muttered, blushing. “Anyone would be a bit tender after receiving that monster of yours.”

Happiness erupted in Thor’s chest and he couldn’t hold back the joyful laughter which escaped his throat. Loki frowned with mock exasperation but soon joined in with his own soft snickers. Thor moved a stray strand of hair from Loki’s face, carefully pushing it behind his ear. His heart clenched with emotion and he felt a sobriety take over his body.

“I am glad you are here,” he said quietly.

“Where else would I be?” Loki snorted in amusement.

Thor shook his head. “I do not know. I feared—I was afraid you might be gone in the morning, run off and ready to deny last night ever happened. I know you resisted at first—”

“And what good that did me,” Loki said ruefully. He paused, taking in Thor’s concerned expression before continuing. “You do not have to worry brother, you did not coerce me in any way. Besides, this is my room,” he added playfully. “Why should I have to leave? It would better suit me to just kick _you_ out.”

“You best not!” Thor grabbed Loki’s hand and intertwined their fingers together. He couldn’t wipe the grin from his face. “You will never get rid of me now.”

Loki chuckled but made no move to remove his hand. “That is becoming quite clear.” He paused, expression becoming serious. “Should you not return to your rooms, though? I would not want your servants to alarm the whole palace to your absence.” 

Thor shook his head. “There is no need for concern. I dismissed my guards and staff last night, informing them that I would call upon them when needed. They know not to disturb me when I am in one of my moods.”

“One of your moods?” Loki repeated, mockery in his voice. His eyes lit up with mischief. “I would say you were certainly in quite a mood last night.”

“I was,” Thor agreed readily, pressing his lips against Loki’s bare shoulder. He nudged his growing erection against Loki’s thigh. “I still am.”

Loki smiled, rubbing his leg against Thor’s stiff length. “Is this how it will always be with you? How will I ever keep you satisfied?”

“I imagine you will have little trouble doing so,” Thor asserted. He recalled the words exchanged last night and felt a creeping heaviness fill his heart. He longed to assure his brother his feelings and desires were not a mere passing fancy. “Loki,” he said solemnly. His brother shifted slightly, breath hitching as he felt the mood change. “I meant all I said last night, you are the only one in my heart, the only object of my desires.”

Loki’s smile faded and the mirth slowly left his eyes. “We need not speak of this now.”

“Yes, we must.” Thor could not bear to have his brother doubt him. “I will not give you up, not now, not ever. I know it will not be easy but I do not regret a single thing.”

The frown on Loki’s face grew, his gaze becoming distant. “You might still…”

His brother’s sad words echoed throughout the room and, though Thor wished to deny them, he remained silent. He could feel the beating of his heart, hear the shallow breaths of his brother, see the sun creeping higher over the horizon, marking the start of a new day. The delicate golden light of morning seemed to grow into a harsher, heated flame.

Thor longed to reassure his brother, to dive deep into the recess of his heart and discover what pains and secrets still lay there. Words were empty, though. Instead, he pulled Loki’s hand to his lips and pressed feather-light kisses to his knuckles. “Will you stay?”

“In bed?” Loki smirked and Thor was never gladder to see his brother’s teasing smile return. “We will have to leave it eventually.”

“I mean, will you stay at court? I cannot bear it when you leave.” He paused, peering earnestly into Loki’s face. “You are needed here.”

Loki rolled his eyes. “For what? Entertaining the Midgardian emissaries?” Loki pulled his hand loose, much to Thor’s disappointment, and rolled onto his back. “They are such a bore. Their culture is primitive and their ways utterly unrefined. I do not know what you see in them.”

“They are useful allies,” Thor pointed out. He propped himself up and watched Loki’s surly frown deepen. “Do you truly dislike them so much?”

“What does it matter how I feel?” Loki said tightly. “I suppose you will do what you must. I heard talk about sealing the alliance with a betrothal between yourself and the oldest daughter, Princess Jane.”

“Is that what they are saying?” Thor felt a pool of a warmth growing in his stomach. Was his brother actually jealous? He thought of teasing Loki, of drawing it out, but he couldn’t endure the idea of any more miscommunications between them. “It is not true.”

Loki’s lips twitched into the semblance of a smile before he quickly smoothed his expression. “Ah, I see.”

“I do not think you do.” Thor moved to straddle Loki, his knees resting on either side of his hips. Loki pointedly looked away. “I have no wish to marry Princess Jane or anyone else for that matter.”

“Do not be ridiculous,” Loki jeered. He glared at Thor with disbelief. “You are the King. You have to marry and beget an heir.”

Loki’s words rang true, but at the moment Thor could not bear hearing them. He longed to remain in the happy bubble of afterglow for a bit more, to pretend that they were the only ones who existed in the entire world. “I would rather marry you,” Thor said, resting his palm above Loki’s heart. He could feel his brother’s quickening pulse beneath his hand.

“We are brothers, not cousins,” Loki replied, his voice full of fond derision. “Besides, I think I am lacking the equipment to bear you an heir.”

Thor’s hand traveled up to cup Loki’s jaw. He stroked his thumb along Loki’s lower lip. “I do not care,” he stated simply.

“Of course you do not.” Loki’s tongue flicked out to meet Thor’s thumb. Thor pushed further inside and was rewarded with a gentle bite. He rubbed the wet digit back over his brother’s lip. “Even if such a wild notion were possible, I would never be accepted as a ruling monarch at your side.”

Thor drew back, his voice colored with surprise. “Of course you would! You are a prince of Asgard and rightful heir after me.”

Loki’s expression grew dark, dejection clouding his eyes. “Those are just words, mere technicalities. The court disdains me—no one truly wants me on the throne.”

“You are wrong,” Thor insisted. He gripped Loki’s shoulders, wanting to shake the truth into his brother’s being. “Forget about the decrepit, ancient nobles with little to no common sense. The true people of Asgard love you. They see your worth, your cleverness, your care for the Kingdom, despite your attempts to conceal it.” 

Thor allowed the resulting silence to grow, the unspoken words vibrating between them. _I see you; your worth, your strength, the leader you would be._

“Thor,” Loki finally spoke, a tremor to his voice.

Thor swooped down and brushed his lips against Loki’s. “Yes, brother?”

“Show me,” he replied in all but a whisper, the words dissolving into Thor’s open and ready mouth.

Thor complied, with soft kisses and confident but careful movements. He met each of Loki’s touches with a firm answer of his own. Unlike the lovemaking of the previous night, Thor took his time and, while he was not necessarily gentle—for he knew now how Loki disdained being treated like glass—the desperation from before was gone, replaced with a certain surety. 

Loki was soon gasping in his arms, body open and welcoming. When Thor finally slid into that warm, tight heat he felt at once complete, understood, and utterly at peace.

✴♔✵♔✴

Peace, however, was a fickle thing. Much like a flower in glorious bloom, the seasons always faded and were met with inevitable decay.

Thor felt untouchable in the days that followed. He went about his courtly business, bid farewell to the Midgardian visitors, met with his ministers and even arranged an end of summer joust to entertain the court. His nights, however, were what he looked forward to the most. Loki did as he pleased during the days; ruffling the nobles’ feathers, working on his potions, and taking his horse out on long rides. When sunlight faded and dusk claimed the day, Thor always found Loki once more in his bed.

He was still reminiscing about the prior evening, Loki’s slender fingers wrapped around him, his talented hands spread across his body. The taste of Loki’s salt-flavored desire on his tongue—

“Thor!” Sif called out, waving her hands in front of his face. He blinked rapidly to clear his thoughts and found Volstagg holding the bow out towards him. “It is your turn,” she said, nudging him with her elbow.

“Right,” he responded, taking the bow from Volstagg and grabbing an arrow from the barrel. Thor pulled the bow taught, closing an eye to focus on the target. The bow quivered in his hand, _trembling like Loki’s thighs_ … The arrow whistled through the air and landed with a soft snap, missing its target by well over a foot.

“Hah,” Volstagg shouted joyfully. “It appears I have won!”

Sif rolled her eyes and took the bow from Thor’s hand. With a quick pull and release, the arrow flew straight and landed directly on the bullseye. She turned to Volstagg with a cocky smile. “Second place will have to suffice for you.”

“I want a rematch,” Volstagg grumbled, kicking at a tuft of grass with the point of his shoe.

“Last place,” Sif remarked, eyeing Thor suspiciously. “Is something on your mind? You almost never perform so poorly.”

“Maybe a certain princess?” Volstagg leered, rubbing shoulders with Thor. “She was quite a beauty. Supposedly her older sister, Princess Jane, is even more striking.”

“No,” Thor denied. “Nothing like that.” He tilted his head as he considered Volstagg. “I thought you had your heart set on Princess Darcy?”

Volstagg shrugged. “I tried but she seemed much more interested in our friend Sif over there.”

“That is not true,” Sif spluttered, her cheeks flushing. “I do not know what you are talking about.”

Volstagg nocked an arrow and aimed. “Sure, of course you do not.” He let the arrow go, watching as it landed a few inches from the bullseye. Frowning, he handed the bow over to Sif.

She nocked a new arrow, pulled the bow and, with seemingly little effort, hit the bullseye,offering Volstagg a smarmy smirk though her face was still faintly pink. “Perhaps you should practice your archery some more instead of partaking in idle gossip.”

Thor laughed at the pair, feeling light and free as he had not been for some time. It was at that moment, of course, that Heimdall approached them, face grim.

“Majesty,” he greeted. His eyes flicked towards Sif and Volstagg. “I have news.”

Thor gestured for him to continue. “Go on, you may speak in front of them.”

Heimdall nodded his head. “There has been another poisoning. A minor noble. He had little position at court and was getting on in age, but there is no doubt it was indeed a murder.”

“Why now?” Thor muttered bitterly. “Why did this phantom murderer wait to attack after so long a time of quiet? Do we have any suspects?”

“Not as of yet, your Majesty,” Heimdall replied. “I have continued to have Skurge followed but I believe he has become overly cautious. I have yet to find him leave the palace at all in the past few weeks.”

Birds chirped in the distance, merry and bright in the height of a sunny day. The warm weather and welcoming breeze was in direct contrast to the storm brewing inside of Thor. “Keep your eyes on him at all times,” Thor directed. “I am certain he will lead us to our conspirator.”

“Yes, Majesty.” Heimdall bowed and turned to make his way back to the palace.

“More deaths,” Sif muttered as he walked away. “What has become of Asgard?”

Thor scowled and turned to face the palace. He watched Heimdall’s retreating form. “It is not the Kingdom that is at peril but this tainted court.”

Volstagg grunted in agreement. 

“Though, the timing is odd...” Sif began

Thor whipped around to look at her. “What do you mean?”

“We have been at relative peace while your brother was away,” She paused, chewing her lip and sounding uncertain. “But now that he has returned—”

“Is there something you wish to accuse Loki of?” Thor asked, anger churning in his stomach.

Sif threw up her hands in surrender. “I only wish you to be aware of the facts.”

“Those are not facts,” Thor insisted, frustration rising in his throat. “That is mere speculation. Treasonous speculation at that.”

“Thor.” Volstagg stepped in. “Sif is not trying to upset you.”

Thor took a steadying breath and willed himself to calm down. His good mood from earlier had completely vanished, replaced with the sinking dread of murder and plots he had hoped were behind him. “I only wish you would not be so biased against Loki.”

Sif stepped forward and placed a friendly hand on Thor’s shoulder. “As I wish you would not allow _your_ bias and interminable affection for him cast a veil over the truth.”

“Bad things do tend to happen in his wake,” Volstagg added quietly.

Thor could not deny that; even loving his brother as fiercely as he did, when it came to disaster and mayhem in the Kingdom, Loki was never far behind. He had a penchant for mischief which, while amusing in their youth, had landed them in many diplomatic difficulties as they grew older. The stirrings of doubt were painful, like a heavy stone lodged into his chest. Still, Thor could not bring himself to believe Loki would ever stoop so low as murder. Not when he—not when they…

“Come,” Sif said with false cheerfulness, attempting to change the mood. “It is your turn again.” She held out the bow to Thor.

Thor shook his head. “I think it best we head back now. It looks like rain.”

Sif frowned as she turned to peer up at the sky. “There are only a few clouds, nothing to be concerned about.”

Thor looked at the wisps of gray breaking the otherwise perfect blue expanse. “Only a few clouds,” he repeated thoughtfully to himself. “Only a few, but it is enough.”

✴♔✵♔✴

News of the most recent murder spread quickly throughout the court. Unlike before, where the nobles found it all rather scandalous and intriguing, true fear had seemed to enter their hearts. Hushed whispers and warnings flooded the salons, the late night parties all but stopped, and nearly everyone took a preference to dining alone in their quarters, accompanied by their very own personal tasters.

Thor did not blame them, but he still felt a sorrowful ache the morning of the joust. He had arranged for an entire day of celebrations and festivities and had been looking forward to the much needed distraction. Arriving at the stands, he was dismayed to discover half the court was missing. It seemed, despite his instructions to do otherwise, a majority of his nobles had fled back to their family homes in light of the threat at the palace.

He was determined to make the most of it, however, and put on a brave face for those of his court that had remained. He was nearly to the dais when Heimdall approached.

“Your Majesty,” he began, pulling Thor aside. “My men caught sight of Skurge slipping out of the palace and heading into the nearby village of Ida in the hours before dawn. I followed him just as the light was breaking over the city and found him visiting the residence of Mademoiselle Amora.”

“Amora?” Thor started. Uneasiness twisted in his stomach. He knew of her fierce ambition and willingness to sacrifice anyone and anything to get what she wanted. “What was he doing there?”

“I cannot say for sure,” Heimdall replied. “I could not enter without being found out. He appeared to leave empty handed and headed right back to the palace. I have men on his doors now, ensuring he does not escape again.”

“You have done well.” Thor clasped Heimdall’s shoulder. He looked towards the platform where his ministers sat and further out to the stands where the diminished crowds waited for the joust. He hesitated for a moment but knew he could not delay. “I will go to Amora and discover her relation to Skurge. She is skilled in the art of alchemy and known as an enchantress to many. Surely she must be behind all this madness.”

“But, your Majesty,” Heimdall protested. “What about the joust? You must be here to announce the participants and oversee the festivities.”

“Perhaps I can help with that,” Duke Tyr’s warm voice offered. Thor turned, surprised to find his uncle coming down the dias to stand beside him. “I would be glad to oversee things while you attend to your business.”

“I would be very grateful,” Thor said, a wave of relief washing over him.

Tyr spread his hands in front of him, his cuffs of pearl-beaded lace shining in the high noon sun. “Of course, nephew. What else is family for?”

✴♔✵♔✴

Though the journey may have been quicker by horse, Thor chose discretion and, adorned with an oversized cloak, made his way to the village of Ida by foot. It was not so far from the palace, and the walk helped to clear his head. He could feel fury boiling inside, rushing through his veins and threatening to spill over. He needed the time to collect himself, organize his thoughts, plan exactly how he would confront Amora. Thor suddenly had no doubt that she must be behind the potions and powders circulating at court. She was gifted in alchemy and, during their tryst together, Thor had experienced first hand some of her more potent aphrodisiac concoctions.

He took the back alleyways, past the cobbler and butcher, until he reached Amora’s residence on the outskirts of the village. He readied himself to march down the winding path leading to the entrance, when her door swung open. He caught a glimpse of Amora’s golden hair glinting in the sun before it disappeared behind dark oak. His heart caught in his throat, however, at who had just emerged on the other side.

_Loki._

Seeing his brother, dusting off his dark clothing and sporting a small frown, nearly knocked Thor to his feet. He knew not to expect Loki at the joust—his brother tended to abhor the _unnecessary, barbaric displays of faux manliness_ as he liked to call it. Still, the last place Thor thought to find Loki was with Amora. There was no love lost between the two, despite their shared interest in the art of alchemy, and when Thor and Amora were lovers, Loki tended to make himself scarce at court. What reason could Loki have for visiting her now?

His feet moved of their own accord, following Loki from a small distance as he pulled his dark hood over his head and weaved his way through the village. Now and then Loki would stop to admire some trinket from the market, before placing it down and moving on. Thor felt in a daze, blood rushing through his ears as he traced Loki’s leisurely path.

Loki had stopped outside a baker’s stall and was pursuing a basket of freshly baked bread when Thor finally gathered the courage to confront him.

“Brother,” he said quietly, coming to his side.

Loki dropped the baguette he had been examining and turned to Thor with wide eyes. “Thor?” Loki hissed in surprise. “What are you doing here? And without your guard? Are you not supposed to be overseeing the joust?”

“I could ask you the same thing,” Thor replied, his pulse thudding with suspicion.

“You could not have truly expected me to attend that silly spectacle.” Loki turned away from the baker’s stall and began to walk down a cobbled path. Thor hurried after him. “I would much rather spend a day pursuing the goods of Ida.”

Thor longed to ask him about his visit to Amora and exactly what he was pursuing with her, but the words stuck in his throat. Loki seemed oblivious to Thor’s struggle and, in a rare good mood, nearly skipped along as he led them to the patch of woodland surrounding the village. “Where are we going?” Thor asked instead, doubt and confusion twisting in his stomach.

“Are you in a rush to return to the palace?” Loki snatched Thor’s wrist and pulled him deeper into the woods. “I imagine you have a reason for wanting to sneak away from today’s festivities.”

Low hanging branches brushed against Thor, bending backwards to spring back into place after they passed. Twigs snapped beneath their feet, small critters scurrying out of the way as they moved through the trees. “Loki, what were you—”

“You should be more careful,” Loki cut him off, voice singsong and teasing. “That cloak does little to hide your royal clothing.” Loki stopped and spun around, pulling on the ties at Thor’s wrist before reaching up to tug at a loose strand of Thor’s hair. “Or your golden, kingly hair.”

“Loki,” Thor warned, pulling away.

Loki blinked. “What?” he asked with sly innocence. “We are quite alone. No one can see us here.”

Thor looked around at the thick, overgrown brush. The sounds of the village were far away and could not be heard this deep into the woods. His pulse quickened, frustration and longing becoming helplessly intertwined. His desire to know the truth diminished with every heartbeat, his body consumed instead with the carnal need to be closer to Loki.

The unasked question faded on his tongue as Loki surged forward to capture his lips in a searing kiss. The taste of his brother, the scent of his hair, the feel of his heated skin all seemed much more urgent than an inconsequential inquiry. 

Thor melted into Loki’s touch, arousal flooding his senses and burning away any lingering doubts. His cock ached, growing in hardness as it rubbed against Loki’s stiff erection. Even with the layers of clothing separating them, the friction was divine and Thor rocked into a steady rhythm. His hands grappled to gain a firm grasp on Loki’s hips, tugging his brother closer with every thrust. 

Thor wanted to confront his brother, wished to wrangle the truth from Loki, but all of that became secondary as he lost himself to pure sensation. If Thor were honest with himself, he wasn’t sure he wanted to hear the answer. 

Loki’s hand slid between them. His fingers deftly undid the fastenings constraining Thor’s cock, hand curling around his throbbing length once it was free. 

“Was there something you wanted to ask me, brother?” Loki asked on a vicious stroke. 

Thor’s hips jerked upwards to match Loki’s movement, chasing the sensation of his brother’s talented hands.

“Loki,” Thor whined, begging for release. 

Loki smirked and stroked faster, his grip on Thor’s leaking cock tightening. “So needy,” he admonished playfully. 

Loki twisted his hand on the upstroke and pressed his thumb into the slit. It was too much for Thor. Overcome he came with a cry, spilling over the tight circle of Loki’s fingers. 

Any leftover doubts and questions washed away in the heady afterglow of his release. He pushed them aside in favor of desperate sighs, swallowing his brother’s moans with his mouth, and the eventual feel of wet, sticky pulses against his hand.

✴♔✵♔✴

Thor could not cast aside _all_ his worries so easily. There was still the matter of Amora and her likely involvement in the plot.

It was Sif’s suggestion, simple but brilliant, that set Thor into motion. Inviting Amora to court would usually fill Thor with apprehension and distrust, but that evening he was practically vibrating with anticipation. 

He knew luring her in as if he merely wanted her company was far more practical than dragging her to the palace in chains. She arrived all smiles and defenses down, dressed in one of her best gowns. 

Thor greeted her in a private sitting room, gesturing for her to sit. 

“Majesty,” she purred, arranging the train of her dress artfully beneath her. “I knew you could not resist me for too long.”

“Is that so?” Thor asked, bemused. 

Her eyes sparkled as she blinked coquettishly at him. “But of course. I can read the future after all.”

“Then you must know why I asked you here,” Thor countered. He took the seat in front of her and watched as she smugly preened. 

“I have an idea,” she replied. Her hands went to the laces at her bodice, fingers slipping between the ribbon to pull them loose. 

Thor held up a hand to stop her. “No, not that.”

Her brow furrowed in response, eyes narrowing as she peered at Thor. He had always admired her captivating looks, especially her emerald eyes. When they first met, he recalled noticing their vibrant color right away, along with a faint memory of Loki’s filling his mind before he extinguished the likeness between the two. He wondered how he could have ever thought they compared to his brother’s? Despite sharing a similar color they could not be more different. Loki’s were a vast ocean, stormy at times but always deep and complex. Amora’s were the flat surface of an icy lake. 

“Why else would you ask me here?” She asked coldly. “Surely you cannot refuse your desires.”

“I can assure you my passions do not stir your way.”

“Do they not?” She huffed in annoyance. Her mouth twisted into a frown as she examined Thor. “Could it be there is someone else, someone who has captured your heart?” Thor flinched slightly but otherwise remained still. Amora, however, never missed a thing. “There is! Oh how I pity the poor soul. It is not an easy thing to be loved by a king.”

“Enough of this,” Thor barked, patience wearing thin. “I need some information and you are going to give it to me.”

Amora leaned back and slyly smiled. She looked like a cat that got into the cream. “Oh, is that so?”

“Yes,” Thor insisted. “What is your relationship with Baron Skurge?”

Amora raised an elegant brow, her lips curling into a devious smirk. “My relationship? Could it be you are jealous?”

Thor tampered down his frustration and pressed on. “What do you know of the potions circulating my court and the untimely deaths of many of my nobles?”

“That is quite a lot of questions,” Amora replied. She leaned back into her chair and carefully folded her hands into her lap. “You are aware that I charge a steep price for that? I wonder what I will have you give me.”

“Freedom, perhaps,” Thor answered. “If I am feeling generous.”

He snapped his fingers and, a moment later, the Knights Three rushed in. Amora jumped to her feet but there was nowhere to escape.

“What is this?” she cried, struggling as the Knights restrained her. “Let us not be too hasty. I hardly know what you are accusing me of.” Her attempt at feigned innocence was muddied by the rising panic in her voice.

“The time for negotiation is over,” Thor firmly stated. “You had your chance.”

Amora’s comely face turned red, true anger flashing in her eyes. “You are mistaken,” she spat, twisting furiously to escape the Knights’ hold. “Once again your ignorance knows no bounds.”

“Take her away,” Thor calmly directed, indifferent to her insult.

Amora’s astonished aggravation quickly morphed into fierce fury. “You will live to regret this,“ she growled as she was pulled from the room. “The kingdom will fall around you, rot from within and destroy all you love.”

“How dare you threaten a king?“ Hogun roared, tightening his grasp on her arm.

Thor waved his hand in dismissal. “Stand down,“ he commanded, untouched by her threats. “Bring her to the dungeons. Let me know when she decides to be reasonable and talk.”

Her spitting response and bitter words faded as she was dragged down the hall. Thor did his best to banish the dark premonition from his mind.

✴♔✵♔✴

Thor toyed with the edges of the broken seal, dried wax crumbled under his touch. The parchment it secured was already creased after being read several times. Still, Thor was having difficulty believing the words on the page.

He had just come back from a long ride, his muscles well used and begging for a long soak in the bath. His squire had barely finished removing his riding garments when he spotted the sealed letter resting on the foot of his bed. Thor had thoroughly questioned his guards but they all swore they hadn’t spotted a single soul enter his rooms that morning.

Thor was quick to dismiss his guards and squire. He settled into a chair, the letter gripped firmly in his hands. He could already sense the news it held could not be good—anonymous letters left sneakily in a King’s chambers hardly ever were.

Thor sighed heavily and read the letter again.

Its contents were shocking and, as desperately as Thor wished to disregard the words, he knew he couldn't deny the real possibility of their truth.

Loki had often been sent on diplomatic missions as Thor was being groomed to take over the throne. His brother had always been the cleverer of the two and Thor, personally, was glad to avoid all the travel and partaking in boring feasts and negotiations at foreign courts. Generally the reports were uneventful, though there had been some scandal over the years. Thor never asked about it. His father was the one Loki reported to and Thor was certain if anything of importance had been shared his father would have informed him.

The biggest shock, one he could not ignore, was when Loki had traveled to Jotunheim right before their father fell ill. The missives had all been normal enough, talks had been as smooth as they could be expected and Thor felt confident that an official peace treaty would be struck between their Kingdoms.

However, Loki returned several weeks early. Thor had barely seen his brother after that. Loki was constantly in conference with their father, always looking paler than usual. Dark circles grew beneath his eyes and his complexion became more pallid than ever. It was then that the rumors began to swirl around the court. There would no peace, not a lasting one in any case, between Asgard and Jotunheim. The treaty was never signed, the talks all for naught. Loki had left in a hurry, citing concern for a plague that was spreading around the city. It had already taken the lives of several emissaries and even, tragically enough, King Laufey’s son and heir.

Many had been suspicious, the timing reeked of foul play, but Thor remained obstinate that it was all just ill fate. The tensions continued to rise between their Kingdoms but the untimely deaths were soon forgotten in Thor’s mind.

Until that morning.

The letter, which Thor finally pushed aside in disgust, accused Loki of being behind the so-called plague in Jotunheim. The anonymous source insisted Loki had been sent to Jotunheim, not to broker peace, but rather to weaken their Kingdom and murder their prince. 

It seemed a wild allegation, one Thor wholeheartedly wished to dismiss. Yet he could not. He knew of Loki’s sly ways, his proficiency with alchemy, the way he shut himself in and distanced himself for months after the incident in Jotunheim. Thor had turned a blind eye at the time and frankly hardly gave it any thought. He could not afford to do so now.

He glanced at the letter, thrust at the other end of the table. The script was neat and meticulous and utterly unrecognizable. Thor wondered who might have written the letter. His thoughts at first brushed upon Sif or the Knights Three but he knew his friends well enough to be certain they would have told him this information straight to his face, if they knew.

It would not do to speculate, not when his head pounded and his body still ached from the day’s rigorous ride. He knew he needed to confront his brother and demand the truth, the sooner the better, but Thor couldn’t muster the will to do so. At least not yet.

He called his squire back to his room and had the young man prepare his bath. A long soak might clear his mind, Thor fervently told himself, denying the tiny voice that knew he was only delaying the inevitable.

✴♔✵♔✴

✴♔✵♔✴

Thor slowly walked through the gardens, passing the well manicured bushes and perfectly positioned flowers. His legs felt like lead and every step was a struggle. Though he had told Loki to meet him that afternoon, Thor dreaded the conversation they must have.

The ornate gardens gave way to woodland and Thor enjoyed the shade of the trees. The Forest of Marly was not terribly dense but it still provided a much needed refuge from the scorching late summer sun. As the forest began to clear, Thor collected his thoughts. The letter rested heavily in the hidden inner pocket of his coat. He felt it as a freshly healed wound, the scars not yet formed, pulling at his tender skin with every movement.

He bypassed the main pavilion and continued to walk south until he reached the small, more private service pavillion; the one Loki and he had claimed for themselves as children. He wasn’t surprised to find Loki already there and waiting but his pulse still stuttered when he caught sight of his brother.

Loki was sitting on the edge of the fountain, the late afternoon sun streaming on his face. He looked utterly at peace; the minor lines around his closed eyes smooth and his lips curved gently upwards in a small smile. The sunlight shone through his dark hair, making the glossy locks appear almost chestnut brown rather than their usually inky black. His long, slender fingers dipped into the bubbling water. Thor watched the droplets fall from his fingertips as he lifted his hand up.

Loki’s beauty was utterly heart-stopping and Thor was held prisoner by the captivating sight. Loki, perhaps sensing his admiring gaze, opened his eyes and grinned at Thor. The smile was so real it hurt; it cut through Thor like razors, grating against his chest.

“You are late,” Loki rebuked with a smirk.

Thor helplessly stumbled forward, drawn to his brother like the tides to the moon. “Were you waiting long?”

“Just for a bit,” Loki replied. He stood and stretched, all long, elegant limbs. “You can make it up to me.”

Thor could feel the letter in his pocket, knew the urgency and importance that he ask Loki about it right away. In that moment, however, all he wanted was to draw his brother closer, bury his nose in that silky hair and forget all his worries.

Desire won out over logic and in a few, swift steps he had Loki in his arms. He captured his brother’s lips in a deep kiss, prying them open with his tongue to taste the wet heat inside.

Loki pulled away with a laugh. “Eager?”

“Yes,” Thor mumbled his answer into Loki’s throat. He bit at Loki’s jaw before soothing the reddened skin with his tongue.

“A bit risky—ah,” Loki commented, his words morphing into a moan as Thor found a particularly sensitive spot. “Out here in the open, where anyone can find us? Maybe you like that though, the thrill of the risk.”

“We are hardly out in the open,” Thor responded. His cock was filling, arousal flooding his veins. He rutted against Loki’s thigh, basking in the rough friction. Speaking suddenly seemed burdensome, even thinking was an arduous matter. “Only the royal family is allowed on the Marly estate. No one ever comes here but—” Loki pressed his leg firmly against Thor’s erection, sliding it just so. All coherent thought fled from Thor’s already struggling brain. “Only you—only I—”

“Yes,” Loki purred into Thor’s ear, voice low and sensuous. “You have quite made your point.”

Loki’s hands were precise and diligent as they undid the fastenings on Thor’s pants, pulling Thor’s erection free. Thor hardly had a moment to collect himself, to worry that a stray guard might come upon them, before Loki was dropping to his knees.

Wet, velvet heat surrounded Thor. He bit into his tightly clenched fist to mask the sound of his startled and delighted groan. It was of no use. Loki’s tongue was far too talented; flexible and hot, curling around Thor’s cock. He gave up on his attempts to muffle his cries of pleasure and instead put his hands to better use. His fingers slid into Loki’s hair, pulling lightly on the dark strands. His brother relished in the movement, allowing Thor to guide his head and set a rhythm.

Thor had no chance of lasting very long. He needed only look down, catch the sight of Loki on his knees, sensual mouth parted with Thor’s length sliding between his lips—those hollowed cheeks, vibrant green eyes peering back up at him between thick lashes, that vicious tongue finally put to better use. Thor’s muscles tightened, his release growing ever closer. He noticed with a pang of regret that Loki’s hand had drifted south, to free his own cock and jerk himself in time with the thrust of Thor’s hips. He had wanted to be the one to make Loki come, to return the favor and taste Loki’s salty desire on his tongue. 

There was no time for remorse, however. Loki lightly scraped his teeth along Thor’s shaft and Thor saw stars. With a strangled warning he came, pulse after pulse, legs trembling and threatening to give out. Loki did not let up. He swallowed every last bit of Thor’s release, still licking the last, sticky remnants even as his chased his own orgasm. Thor watched in hazy wonder as his brother spilled over his own hand, stripes of come landing onto the ground.

“That—” Thor swallowed roughly, urging his voice to remain steady. “That was nice.”

Loki looked up with a cocky grin. “Just nice?”

“Incredible,” Thor laughed, helping Loki back to his feet. “Wonderful, marvelous, superb—”

Loki cut off Thor’s superfluous flattery with a fierce press of lips. Thor returned the kiss, not even minding the taste of himself still clinging to Loki’s mouth. 

He pulled back after a few moments, still giddy with a surge of delight and sensation. Loki wore a devilish smirk but his eyes shone with pure, unfiltered joy. Thor wanted to memorize that expression, to keep it close to him. Happiness with his brother was always fleeting and even the acknowledgement of that thought caused Thor’s smile to fade. The weight of the letter in his pocket returned full force, threatening to pull him into the ground. It could no longer be ignored.

“Loki,” Thor began, his stomach churning. “I—”

“Yes?” Loki asked, gaze still bright and cheerful. 

Thor found himself without the words and, instead, silently brought out the letter and handed it over. Loki’s brow furrowed with confusion as he unfolded the parchment. His expression swiftly darkened, however, as he continued to read. By the time he had finished his face was livid, eyes stormy and flashing dangerously. Thor briefly wondered why it was _he_ who was named the Thunder King.

“What is this?” Loki said, voice low and menacing. “More accusations?”

Thor gathered his courage. “It was sent to me anonymously. At first I refused to believe its contents, but—”

“But why should you trust your own brother over an unknown stranger?” Loki seethed through clenched teeth. “After all, this letter proves all the worst you have always wanted to believe about me.”

“That is not true and you know it,” Thor countered, frustration coloring his voice. “I have _always_ desired to believe the best of you. I have defended you countless times. All I have ever wanted was you by my side.”

Loki turned in disgust, the letter still clenched in his hand. “By your side?” he scoffed. “More like behind you, forever in your shadow.”

“You are wrong,” Thor stepped forward but stopped right away at the furious look Loki cast over his shoulder. “Brother,” he pleaded. “I only ask you for the truth. Tell me and I will listen with an open heart.”

“The truth?” Loki asked softly, almost as if he were speaking to himself. He turned to face Thor again, his expression wiped clean and eyes flat. “Are you certain you wish to know it?”

Thor nodded emphatically. “Yes, please tell me what this is all about.”

Loki sighed and moved towards the fountain, taking a seat along the edge as he was before when Thor first found him. Thor warily followed. A muscle slid in Loki’s jaw and Thor watched as resignation spread across the profile of his face. “It is true,” Loki admitted, staring at his hands. “There was no plague in Jotunheim. I was sent there for a purpose but that purpose was not to broker peace.” Thor stiffened, his heart hammering against his chest. “Father sent me with my best concoctions, vials of undetectable liquids, easy to slip into one’s drink.”

“I do not believe it,” Thor stammered. His throat constricted as the words fought their way to the surface. “It cannot be true.”

Loki’s eyes remained fixed to the ground. “Our father wanted war, though he outwardly pretended otherwise. He sent me to fix an advantage.”

“You killed them,” Thor stated, his head spinning. He knew it was near impossible to deny the request of a king, especially their father, but Thor still could not reconcile that Loki had gone through with it. Did he even protest? Did his brother resist the command at all? “You murdered them.” The words tasted bitter on his tongue. “How could you?”

Loki looked up at that, pure venom in his eyes. “You accuse me of murder but how many dead have you left on the battlefield?”

Thor jumped to his feet. The numb surprise wearing off to be replaced with shocked outrage. “That was different! Those were noble sacrifices, not the act of a coward!”

“A coward?” Loki hissed, swiftly rising as well. The parchment in his hand crumpled as he clenched his hands into angry fists.

“Yes,” Thor countered, refusing to back down. “A true prince slays in battle, he faces his enemy head on. What you have done is despicable, backhanded, utterly contemptible!”

“What fancy insults,” Loki mocked cruelly. “Do you hide behind such false honor to mask all of your sins? Are your hands not stained red with the blood of the kingdoms you’ve conquered to spread your rule?”

Fury blinded Thor and he found himself stepping closer to Loki, growling with unhinged anger, “You do not know what you speak of. You cannot understand the obligations of a King. I would never condone the use of poison, of slithering in like a snake, using vile and cowardly schemes to gain advantage.”

“If it bothers you so much you can take it up with our dead father, King Odin, who you worshipped so dutifully.” Loki shoved Thor away, his eyes blazing with wild wrath. “You speak with such disdain for my heinous actions while you turn a blind eye to who instructed me to partake in these plots. It is not my fault you only choose to see what you like and push aside the rest. Your ignorance knows no bounds.”

Loki was beginning to shake, his limbs trembling and eyes glassy with angry tears. The outrage pounding in Thor’s head began to fade. Loki’s words rang true and they struck directly where they hurt the most. He suddenly felt extremely tired, as if he had rode for hours, battling a thousand enemies with no reprieve. The anger dissipated to be replaced with a painful sorrow. It hurt to breathe, to move, to speak.

“Loki,” Thor pushed past the raw agony clawing at his chest. “Brother.”

Loki gave Thor a disbelieving look. He had mostly collected himself, though an angry flush still painted his face. “You call me such?” He laughed, a distressing sound edged with malice. “Are we truly brothers? Is that how you feel?”

How did Thor truly feel? He searched his mind, his heart, his soul. All conflicting emotions twisted together, creating a maze of unhappy uncertainty. He could feel the space grow between them with every moment of excruciating silence.

“I am not sure I can trust you,” Thor finally said with painful honesty.

“Oh, can you not?” Loki spat bitterly. “Of course you do not trust me! We did not need this scrap of paper to tell you that. You never have and never will trust me.” Loki threw the crumpled parchment at Thor before moving to storm away.

Thor reached out uselessly but Loki twisted from his grasp. “Loki, wait.”

Loki paused, his back rigid, before slowing turning around to meet Thor’s searching gaze. Loki’s eyes were ice cold, frigid frost over a mossy stone, hard and unyielding. Under their wintry exterior, Thor caught a glimpse of desperation muddled with striking hurt. He wanted to deny his earlier words, to call his brother back to him, to assure Loki he knew he was innocent and untainted.

He couldn’t. His inner struggle must have been displayed clearly on his face. Loki’s jaw tightened in response before he turned on his heel and left.

✴♔✵♔✴

Thor stared despondently at the empty space where his brother should have been sitting. Loki’s absence was like an unhealable wound; despite the vulnerable skin’s numerous attempts to mend itself, the scar remained open. No matter how many times Loki disappeared from court, Thor’s heart always ached with bitter disappointment in the aftermath.

Thor sighed and drank deeply from his cup.

“Thirsty?” Sif asked with a raised brow. “I see you have no appetite for food however.” Thor looked down at his untouched plate and shrugged. Sif nudged him with her elbow. “I know you cannot fear poison in your own food. I saw it tasted several times before it made its way to you.”

“No.” Thor shook his head. “That is not it.”

Sif hummed in response, following Thor’s sorrowful gaze to the end of the table. “Could your miserable expression have something to do with your brother’s absence?”

Sif was too observant for her own good. “Loki?” Thor asked, trying to keep his voice steady. “I am sure he is just busy with other ventures tonight.” He had yet to tell anyone about the letter he received nor the vicious fight he had with Loki the other day. Thor longed to confide in his friends and share his doubts and worries, but their suspicions were on alert as it was, and Thor did not wish to further fan that flame. “No,” Thor continued. “I am just concerned that we have yet to catch the culprit.”

“Amora has not broken her silence on the matter?” Sif asked.

“No,” Thor replied, frowning into his cup. “She continues to speak only in riddles. We have had to change her guards twice already as the previous ones quickly fell under her spell. She is proving to be a dangerous captive. I’m starting to wonder if she is worth the trouble.”

Sif clasped Thor’s shoulder and squeezed in sympathy. “I am sorry to see you so burdened with this matter. It is enough that Asgard is on the brink of war and scouts from Jotunheim persist on our borders. But to now be distracted with such devious plots? It seems such a waste of valuable energy and resources. How can our kingdom stay together to battle these outside threats when the court is brimming with strife within?”

The chatter and noises around Thor faded away. All movement felt as if it had come to a standstill. Tendrils of thoughts and conclusions spread through his mind, growing with urgent certainty. He stood quickly, careless to the loud screech of his chair nor the concerned looks of those around him. “Thank you, Sif,” he said distractedly. “Our talk has been fruitful indeed.”

Sif opened her mouth, face furrowed in confusion, but Thor turned and hurried out of the room before she could speak.

✴♔✵♔✴

“A spy,” Thor repeated with certainty. “Someone who is being paid, or perhaps blackmailed, by Jotunheim.”

Heimdall hurried to keep pace with Thor as they moved through the corridor. “In our very own court? I cannot imagine anyone here having any love for that wicked kingdom. Even the foreign emissaries have had cause to complain.”

“That does not matter,” Thor waved his hand dismissively. “If the price is high enough many at this court would gladly sell their soul.”

“Why would they not attack you personally?” Heimdall asked, following Thor as they began to descend down a curving stairwell. “Why not poison you directly and be done with it?”

Thor grabbed a lit torch from the stone wall, using its flickering light to guide them both through the dim lower level of the dungeons. “Because that is not their goal. A simple death would not do—If I were to die, Asgard would still go on. They aim to weaken us from within, to make us all doubt one another so when Jotunheim finally invades we will be unable to unite and fight them off.”

Thor paused in front of the cell. The iron bars flaked with rust, turned further red by the glow of the torch light. The heavy chain and lock however, remained secure.

“You believe she is the spy?” Heimdall asked, gesturing to the woman inside the cell.

“No,” Thor shook his head. He handed Heimdall the torch before turning to the standing guard, gesturing for him to open the door. “But I believe she knows who is.”

“Your Majesty,” Amora said with false sweetness. Her voice sounded rough and she cleared her throat before she continued. “What an unexpected surprise. If I had known you would be visiting I would have tried to fix this place up.”

She let out a bark of laughter, the sharp sound causing a rat to scurry from its hiding place and across the straw-laden floor. Thor stepped into the cell but Amora didn’t even as much as flinch. She remained perched on the torn, stained bedding as if she were indeed entertaining a man in her personal room. Her usual lovely hair was a matted mess and her gown dirty and frayed in places but her posture remained ever regal.

“You know why I am here,” Thor responded, looking distastefully at the filthy cell.

“Do I?” She smirked, a dark and frightening thing. “I believe you have some questions for me.”

Heimdall began to enter the cell but Thor put up his hand, stopping him. “Leave us,” he commanded.

“Your Majesty—” Heimdall protested.

“Do as I say,” Thor cut in severely, leaving no room for disagreement.

The door creaked shut behind him and, as Heimdall walked away, Amora burst into laughter. The manic sound echoed off the stone walls. “If I knew you wanted us to be alone I would have certainly prepared myself better. I am afraid baths are rather hard to come by on the ground level of the dungeons.”

“Enough,” Thor growled. “I want the truth.”

Amora folded her hands onto her lap, lips curling into a sinister smile. “The truth...such a strange and often painful thing.”

The words sounded familiar somehow, and with a pang, Thor thought of his brother. “Loki,” he said, unable to stop himself. “What was he doing at your residence several weeks ago?”

“Prince Loki?” Amora looked up, genuine surprise on her face. “That pesky brother of yours. He used to be such fun when I was at court. Always up to something, always willing to make things exciting. He is so dull now.”

“Were you selling him potions?” Thor ground out, pressing on.

“Potions?” Amora tittered with amusement. “Loki? He has little need to come to me for such. If he were to sell his own creations I would find myself with no customers and empty pockets in an instant.”

“What was he doing at your residence?” Thor repeated, patience wearing thin.

Amora gazed thoughtfully at Thor. She seemed to be debating something—the truth, a lie, or a riddle? Thor could see the options play out across her face. “Your nosy brother did pay me a visit, that is true. Poor soul,” she sighed. “He so wanted to solve the mystery for himself, share in some of your glory. How he longs to leave his endless winter and step into the light.” She paused, eyes glowing with malevolence. “I doubt he will ever get the chance,” she added darkly.

Thor’s pulse quickened. Amora’s words sunk in, sharp and cutting like a knife. His doubts about his brother, his harsh words and accusations all seemed to twist inside his mind. He recalled the hurt expression on Loki’s face, the resentment often fueling his angry words. He took a steadying breath. “You will tell me all you know,” Thor commanded. “I will not ask again.”

“More threats?” Amora chuckled in delight. “Poor, ignorant Thor. You will forever remain blind to what is right in front of you. The serpent feasts in the garden, gorging itself on your misfortune. You will not even know when its fangs sink inside of you, when the poison sets in and spreads through your bloodstream, destroying all you have built.”

“Majesty!” Heimdall called out from the other side of the cell.

“I told you to leave us alone,” Thor shouted, glaring at Amora with anger burning in his eyes.

“I am sorry for the interruption,” Heimdall said, “but you must see this.”

Thor turned in frustration to find Skurge standing next to Heimdall, looking nervous but determined.

“Baron Skurge!” Amora clapped her hands together in glee. “Have you come to keep me company in my little cell?”

“I am afraid not,” Heimdall replied. He gave Skurge a little shove and the man stepped forward, a book in his hand.

Amora’s expression turned murderous as she caught side of the bound pages. “Traitor,” she hissed. “How dare you, you pathetic, weak man!”

“What is this?” Thor asked, moving towards the cell door.

“Skurge was looking for us,” Heimdall answered. “It seems he has had a change of heart.”

Skurge bowed his head. “Please forgive me, your Majesty. I was desperate and in debt and the money was good but—”

“Stop right there!” Amora screeched, lunging forward. Thor pushed her back before escaping her fury and locking the door behind him. She threw herself at the gate, hands grasping between the bars. “Skurge, do not speak another word!” she wildly commanded. 

“—But,” Skurge continued, gaining confidence. “I have lived in Asgard all my life and cannot bear to see it crumble because of my greed. You have always been fair to me, your Majesty, forgiving my outstanding debts time and time again. I hope I am not too late.”

Skurge handed the book over to Thor. The leather cover was well worn but unmarked, the yellowed parchment within, however, was littered with names. Amora continued to spew threats, arms outstretched but unable to make contact with anyone outside the cell.

“Those are all the people, nobles and common folk, who have purchased potions and powders from Mademoiselle Amora,” Heimdall reported. “The last page lists those who have purchased the more dangerous and discrete poisons.”

Thor flipped through the pages with mounting disbelief and disgust. It astounded him how many at court had purchased powders, harmless or not. He came across the final page, where the names were much fewer but the purchases beside them far more horrifying than those before. The last name on the list was underlined several times, the deadly poisons next to it numerous. Thor’s stomach dropped and he closed the book with a heavy snap. He gave it back to Heimdall, unable to mask the tremor in his hands.

“Arrest all those who have purchased deadly poisons,” he directed. He inhaled deeply and willed his pounding heart to settle. “I will handle the last name on the list myself.”

✴♔✵♔✴

Thor heard muffled shouts as soon as he entered the corridor. The door was shut tight, but between the layers of polished oak and brass, sounds of struggle slipped past. He wasted no time; thrusting his shoulder against the door, the resulting loud creak filled his ears and he pushed his way inside.

The floor was littered with shards of porcelain, delicate ornaments shattered against the ground. A chair was turned over, parchment, expensive ink, and wax tablets strewn about the room. Thor took in the chaos for a moment before his gaze was captured by the fight in the far corner. Loki had their uncle, Duke Tyr, shoved against the wall, a dagger angled at his throat.

“Loki!” Thor shouted, drawing both men’s attention.

“Your Majesty,” Tyr called out desperately. His eyes were wide with relief as they focused on Thor. “Thank heavens you are here. Your brother has gone quite mad!”

Loki laughed maniacally, his eyes flashing with disgust. “You call this mad?” He spat angrily. “You have seen nothing yet.”

Thor’s attention fixed on Loki’s arm; his sleeve was ripped open and an ugly gash stretched from his shoulder down to his elbow. The golden fabric of his sleeve was stained crimson.

“Please, Thor,” Tyr begged, flinching from the dagger hovering below his chin. “You must stop him. Loki has entered my chambers and attacked me. He means to kill me and then all of the council until finally he disposes of you as well. He has been the one behind the poisonings and murders at court.”

Loki growled and pressed the blade closer. The sleek metal shone, reflecting beams of light off its shiny surface. “You are right about one thing,” he hissed. “I _do_ mean to kill you.”

Thor raced across the room and grabbed Loki, pulling him back and away from their uncle. Loki struggled, cursing under his breath, but it was to no avail. Eventually his brother tired and, unable to escape Thor’s firm hold, let the dagger drop to clatter onto the floor. He pushed Loki aside and went to Tyr, firmly grasping the duke’s shoulders.

“Thank you, your Majesty,” Tyr panted. His chest heaved as he tried to catch his breath. “I am sorry you had to discover your brother’s treachery this way.”

Thor’s heart hardened and his grip tightened. “I am sorry too. It is a terrible thing to have one’s own family turn against him. But I understand now. I can see clearly, once and for all, the truth which I have tried to hide from.”

Duke Tyr’s expression of exhausted relief morphed into one of smug satisfaction. He seemed hardly aware of Thor’s thunderous gaze, nor the fingers digging sharply into his shoulder. He could hear Loki breathing heavily in the corner where Thor had shoved him aside, could taste the desire Loki had to clear his name and speak his truth. Thor beat him to it.

“We must arrest him immediately—”

“Loki?” Thor asked, his voice rising. “You are mistaken, dear Uncle. It is you who will be arrested, _you_ who will face the charges of treason and attempted regicide.”

Tyr’s eyes widened in shock as he struggled to break free. “No, you are mistaken. I would never dare such a thing, your Majesty. How could you believe I would capable of such a horrendous act?”

“The evidence is stacked against you,” Thor replied with cold fury before calling out, “Guards!” The Knights Three entered the room, followed by several other armored men. In Hogun’s hand was Amora’s book, the last page spread open for all to see. “ _You_ have been the one purchasing all the deadly poisons that have circulated around my court. _You_ have killed countless nobles and attempted to frame Loki in the meanwhile. You have tried to sow discord between my brother and I, to wreak chaos and destruction upon Asgard. Dare you deny it to your King?”

The dismay faded from Duke Tyr’s face to be replaced with bitter loathing. “You are no King of mine,” he sneered, bucking against Thor’s hold. “I cannot bring myself to snivel at your feet a moment longer. You are weak, just like your brother, just like your father. Odin should never have been King—the throne should have fallen to me. I was always wiser, more powerful.” Tyr’s eyes flashed angrily, pupils swelled with manic fervor. “And you, my foolish nephew, are even worse. Soft-hearted, feeble, spineless,” he seethed malovently, “with your unnatural preferences.” Tyr’s eyes flicked towards Loki. Thor’s pulse crescendoed, blood rushing through his ears. “For shame,” he hissed. “You are unworthy of the crown. I could have brought Asgard to greatness!”

Thor released his hold on Duke Tyr, face twisting with disgust. “You nearly brought Asgard to ruin. You are a disgrace to our family name.” He turned to the guards and nodded his head. “Take him away.”

Tyr shoved against the men but he was outnumbered and weakened from his previous fight with Loki. It was only a matter of moments before he was subdued and dragged from the room. Thor turned to Loki who was still silent, standing near the open window. The sky was starting to lighten, twilight taking over the night, the edges of the horizon purpled like a bruise.

“Are you hurt?” Thor asked, moving towards Loki. He reached out to touch the edge of Loki’s torn sleeve but Loki flinched away from his touch.

“I am fine,” he replied shortly. His hair fell over his face, hiding his expression from Thor’s searching eyes.

“You are bleeding,” Thor pointed out. He ached to take Loki’s arm, to examine his brother’s wound in more detail. He knew he would likely be bit if he tried.

“It is just a scratch,” Loki said dismissively. His body was rigid with tension. He looked as if he wanted nothing more than to flee. Thor couldn’t let him go, not just yet.

“Why did you not tell me?” He asked quietly. “Why did you not share your findings, your suspicions, all your research?”

“You never asked,” Loki countered coldly. He turned to look at Thor, hurt writ across his face. The brightening sky cast a violet shadow across his smooth, pale skin. “Even if I did come to you, you would not have believed me.” He paused, and stared Thor down. It was painful to return Loki’s icy glare, but worse still to look away. “You do not trust me, remember?”

The words cleaved right through him as if Loki had picked up his forgotten dagger and drove it right into Thor’s heart. “Loki, I—”

“I am tired,” Loki cut in before Thor could continue. “I need to clean this up,” he said, gesturing to his arm, “and try to get some rest.”

Thor longed to stop him, to mutter a thousand apologies, to tend to Loki’s injury himself, to take him in his arms and never let him go, to fall to his knees and profess his love, his adoration, his confusion, his inability to give his brother up. 

In the end, Thor did none of those things, and as the garish light of dawn invaded the wrecked room, he let Loki walk away.

✴♔✵♔✴

Thor traced his hand over curved marble, fingertips skating over the colossal sculpture’s base. He peered up at the ivory figure, with its massive bow and chiseled armor. As a child he found the towering sculptures in the garden mammoth and, though he had certainly grown a bit himself, he still felt small in their immense presence. His father had commissioned talented artists across Asgard to build numerous sculptures of various gods, placing them amongst the gardens, groves, and walks. Loki and he would spend days together, admiring the creations with large eyes, attempting—usually in vain—to memorize each and every god’s name and purpose.

Sunlight shone through the crook of the sculpture’s elbow, blinding Thor with its fierce rays. He raised his hand to block out the light, but the morning was far gone and the noon sun was as resilient as ever. He wondered what it must feel like to be one of those gods; powerful, fearsome, able to withstand even the harshest conditions. Thor could not help but feel even gods must have their problems, much as Kings do.

“ _Still_ lost in thought?”

Thor turned to find Sif coming down the walkway. She held a couple of yellow apples in her hand. In the stream of daylight they appeared nearly golden. “You could say that,” he replied, deftly catching one the apples Sif tossed his way. “How was the meeting?”

“What a show,” Sif whistled in amazement. “You should have been there,” she added wryly. Thor felt a stab of guilt at that. He really _should_ have attended the latest council meeting. Rumors of his uncle’s imprisonment had spread quickly through the palace but nothing had been confirmed until a couple of days later when Thor called all his ministers for an urgent meeting. He had intended to be there, to announce the news himself but… Truthfully, Thor needed the time and space away. His conflicting thoughts must have shown on his face, because Sif merely patted his shoulder in sympathy and continued. “I am not sure what was more shocking to your poor ministers; Duke Tyr’s involvement in the murders at court or that I was the one to replace him.”

Thor smiled at that. “I wish I could have seen their faces.”

“Priceless,” Sif insisted, biting into her apple. “The first woman on the council in—well, ever really.”

Thor took a bite of his own apple. The orchards were in season as summer finally came to a close. The golden flesh was thin and the fruit inside the perfect mixture of tart and sweet. “They will have to adjust,” Thor insisted. “I am sure they will eventually. Change is inevitable and our court needs plenty of it.”

“You are not wrong,” Sif hummed in agreement. “Perhaps these innovations will convince most of the nobles to return.”

“I am not certain I want _all_ of them back,” Thor laughed. The sun dipped behind a cluster of clouds, casting shadows along the ground. Finally able to stare without squinting, Thor glanced back at the grand sculpture. Power, beauty and prestige—all the things his father and his father before him, and all the legacy of his family line wanted for Asgard. Attributes that, at times, seemed impossible—now more than ever. “Do you think the Kingdom can recover from this?”

“Of course,” Sif replied fervently. She paused, brow furrowing as she thought. “It will not be easy—nothing meaningful ever is—but I am certain the nobles, the court, and all of Asgard will heal in time.”

Thor nodded slowly. “It seems an enormous task,” he admitted.

“Oh it is,” Sif conceded. “But you cannot know how it will go unless you try.”

Thor’s thoughts returned to—where he had to admit, a part of them always were—his brother. He knew he would unfailingly fight for Loki, he always had. This was no different, but now he found he could not bear to wait a moment longer.

“Sif I—”

Sif laughed and waved him away. “Yes, go on. I can tell from that look on your face you have an idea, an urgent one that must be tended to. I will not even bother to ask—I know you like your secrets.” Her eyes twinkled with amusement. “All I ask is that you do not miss the next council meeting. I have some new reforms to push through and I want you there to see the look on Duke Hoder’s face.”

“You have my word,” Thor promised over his shoulder, already on the move. He swiftly made his way out of the garden until Sif’s amused laughter faded from his ears.

✴♔✵♔✴

Thor hurried through the winding paths, passing a gleaming bronze fountain, and turned towards the cobblestone road that led to the palace. If he was quick, he could rush past the guards lining the corridors, avoid any nobles that wished to converse, and make it to Loki’s quarters in no time.

Something stopped him dead in his tracks. A chill down his spine, an inkling in the back of his mind. Some deeply seated feeling of certainty had him heading away from the palace, through the apple groves, towards their old childhood fort.

He was fairly winded when he finally arrived, stray twigs caught in his clothing and hair from the overgrown brush that had flourished throughout the warm, summer days. The singular intuition that led him there did not fail him. Leaning against the sunbaked stone stood Loki. His arms were crossed as if he were cold, though the heat of early autumn was growing by the hour. His brow was furrowed as he looked off into the distance, his eyes a stormy green that spoke of turbulent thoughts.

Thor softly cleared his throat to announce his arrival, but Loki still seemed to jump out of his skin all the same. His gaze swung towards him. “What are you doing here?” he asked, eyes roaming around suspiciously. “Did you have me followed?”

“No,” Thor replied, taking a step forward. Loki eyed him warily. “I just...I had a feeling you might be here.”

Loki sighed in resignation. “So you were looking for me?”

“Yes.” Thor’s face was still hot from the swift walk in his heavy clothes. He could feel his temples dampen with sweat. His pounding heart, however, could not be so easily blamed on his earlier exertions. “If you were trying to hide, you should have picked a different place.”

Loki attempted a smirk, though it came off more as a sad smile. “Who says I was not trying to be found?”

“Loki—”

“Is this the part where you beg for my forgiveness?” Loki asked. His voice was cold but his expression was unreadable. His eyes were like the sea, changing and unpredictable. “Somehow I cannot imagine you down on your knees.”

The vision those words imparted hit Thor like a hammer to his chest. He could feel his face heat further and a curl of desire twist in his stomach. “I have been there before,” he retorted, unable to mask the gravel filling his voice.

“Ah,” Loki needled. “Is an apology blowjob on offer?”

Thor grinned, satisfied when he saw the corner of Loki’s lips lift in an aborted smile. “If you would like. You must know by now I would not deny you anything.”

Loki rose a brow and seemed to consider. “Really? What if I want the throne?”

Thor saw the bait hovering between them. He refused to latch on. He stepped closer. “If you are willing to share.”

Loki’s smug expression faltered, the veil falling to reveal a tired, worn man beneath. “Thor.”

“Loki,” Thor quickly cut in. “I have no excuses and you know well by now that I am not skilled with words. Still, I have to tell you how sorry I am for ever doubting you, for judging you, for my lack of belief. If I were more clever, like you, I would have known right away our uncle was behind it all—the skirmishes at the border, his constant offers to oversee anything of importance, the chaos he wreaked at court, the blame he tried to place on you.” Thor’s stomach twisted as he thought of how easily their uncle manipulated the facts, killing Duke Vidar to throw suspicion on Loki, spreading venomous rumors within the court, sending that letter to Thor. Though the contents had proved to be true, Thor felt sick with remorse at how easily he allowed it to color his view of his brother, how ready he was to believe the worst. Swallowing against the rising regret in his throat, he pressed on. “I should have spoken to you directly and not constantly jumped to conclusions. It was wrong of me to assume you had nefarious motives—”

“Wait,” Loki huffed in frustration. “I have had ill intentions.” Loki swallowed roughly and Thor watched the movement in his throat. The pain emanating from his brother was so intense it felt like a thick fog rising between them. Thor longed to lunge forward and close the distance between them but he remained still, waiting for Loki to continue. “I _did_ make those poisons in the past, and yes they were at father’s commands, but I enjoyed it. I liked feeling useful, skilled, being sneaky and unsuspecting.” Loki pushed off the stone wall and began to pace. “I sometimes fantasized about using them on you. I would sit in bed at night and go through the ingredients needed, how I would slip it into your food or drink, what it would be like to wake as an only child, the only son, the heir to the throne. I was sure I would be a better King, wiser and more powerful.”

Thor, heart in his throat, moved even closer. “Did you truly hate me so much?”

“Yes,” Loki answered simply. “I hated you to my core and loved you with the same fervor. I desired to protect you as much as I wanted to destroy you. To love and to hate with equal measure—I do not wish you that burden.” Loki paused, seeming to need a moment to gather the courage to continue. When he spoke again his voice was soft, quiet in the space between them. “I tried to create distance, to scheme and ruin all your noble plans. I cheered in delight when you took a misstep, when one of my pranks caused you discomfort. Yet there you were, always ready to forgive me, to welcome me back; and for that, I hated you even more.”

In the past Thor might have felt offense at Loki’s bitter words but time had changed them both. He could see clearer than before, past the petty arguments and misunderstandings. He now knew on some deeper, instinctual level that Loki wasn’t trying to hurt him. In fact, he was certain this was the closest his brother might ever get to a love confession.

“Brother—”

Loki held his hand up, silencing Thor with the simple movement. “You should know the man you are so free with your forgiveness.”

Loki’s head remained bowed, his eyes fixed on the ground. Thor could no longer resist. He closed the space between them and placed his fingers on Loki’s chin, gently lifting his brother’s head. Their eyes met once more. “I was blind before,” Thor said softly. “It is true I did not always understand you nor made the effort to see you as you really are. I see now I cannot expect to have only part of you and not all.” Thor’s thumb stroked the edge of Loki’s jaw. “Because, brother, I want _all_ of you. I want to learn everything—your honest thoughts, your deepest desires, the dark places your mind wanders when you are distressed.”

Loki tried to shake his head but Thor’s grip remained firm. His gaze reflected disbelief intertwined with fond frustration. Soft lips curved at the corner, eyes shining with the grin he fought to keep off his face.

“I have not forgiven you yet,” Loki stated airly though he was already leaning forward. “You will have to do a lot better than that sorry excuse for an apology and I intend the groveling to continue for several weeks, no months, to come.”

“I would not expect any different,” Thor replied and then said no more as his lips met Loki’s in a ardent, consuming kiss. 

He knew Loki was still hurt, that Thor’s wrongs could not be so easily forgotten but he was more determined than ever to mend the growing gaps between them. The fact that Loki was here, in his arms, meeting his kiss with equal fervor, was more than enough for now. Thor would happily spend his whole life to prove worthy of his brother’s touch, his trust, his heart.

Thor’s hand released Loki’s chin to slide around his neck, pulling his brother even closer. Their tongues met, all wet heat and urgent pressure. Thor hummed happily into the embrace, his entire body vibrating with pleasure and relief. 

He enjoyed this side of his brother, pliant and willing in his arms, mouth open and hands roaming to greedily take everything on offer, just as much as he appreciated Loki’s sharp-tongued wit and biting words that often left Thor’s head spinning. But both sides were only small facet to the greater whole and Thor yearned to further discover every single piece. 

Loki’s body trembled as Thor pressed kiss after lingering kiss to his brother’s mouth, communicating only through heady sighs and urgent moans, the unspoken words passing silently between them. Because Thor did not need to say aloud all things Loki was; brother, rival, friend, lover, a lifetime of identities that Thor longed to learn and love.

Thor was finally coming to understood exactly who they were and what they shared. Two princes, two lovers, two men with their own complications and an unshakable connection. The stars would fall from the night sky, fire would scorch the land, and kingdoms would perish long before their bond would break. 

The kiss slowed and eventually stopped as they both regained their bearings. Thor leaned his forehead against Loki’s, his hand still curled around the nape of his brother’s neck. Their lips remained mere inches apart, shaky exhales brushing along the tender, swollen skin. 

Together, they breathed in the promise of infinity stretched out before them.

✴♔✵♔✴

✴♔✵♔✴

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you so much for reading!  
> Kudos/Comments = <3
> 
> Find me on tumblr: [@mugglelissa](https://mugglelissa.tumblr.com/)
> 
> ETA: As mentioned in the comments below, time got the better of me and I would have liked to have Thor grow a bit more towards the end and truly make things up to Loki. That said, rather than going back and editing the story, I was thinking of adding a small epilogue (maybe from Loki's POV) in the near future that will further portray some of the changes made in the kingdom and at court. Let me know if that's something you would be interested in! :D


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